


you're enough for me

by corrupted_voracity



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, NO ONE ACTUALLY DIES trust me, Role Swap, Sexual Tension quickly turns into Emotional Strain, i should mention this is akeshu but can be read as shuake up to a specific point if you're creative, mild violence, smut in chapter 7 and 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrupted_voracity/pseuds/corrupted_voracity
Summary: Goro likes secrets - it's only natural that he's drawn to what's prowling behind all the masks Ace Detective Kurusu adorns. Their relationship starts as a game, becomes a challenge, but then morphs into something brittle Goro would hold on to, even if it means dying with a kiss to his lips.or: All of their significant confidant rank ups in reverse.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 161
Kudos: 351





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts very gay and sexually charged but I promise it has a serious turn and plot behind it. I could have fleshed this Role Swap AU out a lot more, but then it'd turn into another book-sized thing and I didn't want to do that.
> 
> This is basically just each of their confidant rank dates (in reverse and without the Aquarium, sadly) with only sparse mention of the Phantom Thieves and everything else that doesn't contribute directly to Goro's and Akira's relationship. More or less vague backgrounds, feel free to interpret the missing slots I didn't or barely spent time on due to reason mentioned above :)
> 
> **Updates every second day!**
> 
> This entire fic is not beta-read.

Goro likes secrets.

He has an affinity for finding out what he isn’t supposed to - as a child, he’d systematically search every inch of his and his mother’s apartment to find out where she hid the Christmas presents.

Goro’d always get an earful if she managed to catch him reaching for the colorful wrapping in an extra box in her closet, batting his fingers away while telling him in a stern voice it’d just spoil the surprise, but the excitement at having found the supposedly hidden presents was enough for Goro to continue searching in the next days nonetheless.

It became a game for them they played each year once December arrives, until his mother really was tired of having to search for new hidden places he found way too quickly and opted to buy his presents in only the last moment instead.

When they'd still been hidden, Goro never ended up opening one of the presents because he cared much more about their location than their content.

It only evolved when once he got into school.

Goro loves secrets the most when it involves people.

He’d find out who had a crush on whom, happily watch embarrassment color their premature faces as he’d expose it all. It was always easy to know who stole small amounts of money from their parents to buy the cool stuff they showed off during breaks, making everybody gather around them to gain feeble, short seconds of attention that Goro could whisk away within seconds.

The ability he has is powerful, and Goro has never been afraid to use it to his advantage. If people _let_ him read their secrets so easily, sometimes practically spilling everything out to him, then who are they to blame Goro if he makes use of them?

His mother used to get exasperated at the phone calls she got from school since Goro kept getting involved in things people kept telling him not to meddle with, but one time she had to pick him up at school for getting into a fist fight with a seemingly innocent looking boy.

She had chided him for half an hour straight afterwards, and Goro endured it because he was used to her tirades, that she’s actually a living dragon merely adorning the skin of a plump, soft-looking women to hide the fiery nature beneath. 

Goro waited until she cooled down to an approachable level before he opened his mouth, telling her the other boy was always hitting his smaller sister at home for getting more attention than him. It was painfully obvious in the way he bandaged his knuckles, got too aggressive when he was left out in a conversation, and the way his little sister who always wore long clothing regardless of the weather would flinch away from him every time they saw each other in breaks.

Of course there were many more factors (nobody noticed - how could nobody ever notice?), but Goro’s lips really fucking hurt that day because that fragile looking boy hit _hard_ despite his appearance and he didn’t want to strain his mouth even more by stretching his monologue further.

But his mother had already shut her previously gaping maw, only to sparkle at him in the next second, proceeding to tell Goro that he should have hit _harder_ if that’s really true.

It was. 

The boy ended up transferring, and Goro had to deal with an annoying crush of the little sister for about half a year when he wasn't even in high school yet.

“Do what you want, Goro,” his mother then used to tell him after she’s gotten used to skittering around the calls hailing from the school due to Goro skipping some classes, getting caught smoking, and getting involved into even more fist-fights with people who bullied (and yet the school didn’t really want to kick him out because his grades were absolutely fucking perfect, Goro made sure of that).

“If you don’t do what you want in your life, you’ll regret it. Doesn’t matter if everything looks like shit and everyone doubts you. Don’t be like me. If I’d have followed my own advice, you would have grown up in a baby room that’s twice the size of our entire apartment.”

The laugh she’d gives off afterwards was a mixture between self-deprecation and genuine acceptance, and even though it’s an unbelievably unattractive sound with how crooked it was, Goro still liked listening to it. 

That’s the exact reason why Goro doesn’t hold anything back when some years later, he reels his fist back as far as he can to crash it into the drunken man's face for maximum pain.

Admittedly, Goro would usually wait at least a little while until he resorts to action.

Maybe he would have attempted a conversation with the ape of a man if he wouldn't have been able to smell he was drunk as fuck from miles away, but Goro knows that’s just wishful thinking because with his shining egg-head and stupidly tinted glasses, the man definitely looks like the type of person who'd force himself on a woman while completely sober.

And maybe Goro shouldn’t judge by appearances too quickly (he’s the last person to do that, honestly), but the way he just _s_ _tood_ near the woman rubbed Goro in all the wrong spots and maybe he’ll just blame his arm's actions on a spontaneous seizure that, as a consequence, sent the drunkard flying a good meter until he crashed his face into an unfortunate, but very conveniently placed street lantern.

Not like the police believes him anyway when the enraged man turns out to be some sort of politician, taking control of the obvious situation shockingly fast, confirming Goro would dig out their entire _network_ of secrets someday, too.

Goro prays the bastard has to undergo surgery to get his broken nose fixed. 

* * *

Goro likes secrets, and Kurusu is practically reeking of them.

He wasn’t really prepared for their encounter at first because he’d been busy staring at his phone, letting the other two and a half idiots he wouldn’t dare to call his friends in public rant over cakes and dome town and puke rides.

The soft, unfamiliar tenor however, does snap him out of his thoughts, and Goro pockets the phone more out of adapted habit than actual reflex due to his _proper_ time in Shujin.

More like Ann rubbing off on him.

But the longer Kurusu talks to them, the more it’s clear that the detective is trying to look oppressively casual appearance wise (tan peacoat, black dress-shirt with a striped tie, everything so damn immaculate it hurts his eyes) when he’s anything but, not with the charisma and charm he executes which has Ann quickly wrapped around his finger.

It’s like Kurusu’s still holding back.

Goro thinks he can even spot a soft blush on distrusting _Ryuji’s_ face when the detective giggles at a random comment Goro didn’t pay attention to, and he has half a mind to step in and make his presence known, but chooses to remain silent for once.

Assess the other, see what he could do, how big their playing field would be.

And usually either of his two idiots would cast Goro weird glances for _not_ opening his mouth to find an excuse to bluntly comment on something, but they’re way to preoccupied with getting Kurusu to agree eating pancakes with them to notice his quietness.

“Sorry, I _really_ have a briefing to attend to now,” is the last sentence Kurusu says to them, and the first one Goro actively notices because _now_ those twinkling, gray eyes flicker over his for a split second. “Perhaps some other time? I really like sweet things."

“Kurusu’s definitely gotta be some kinda start-up entertainer or something,” Ryuji says once said detective is out of earshot. “If he’ll get popular with that hair, do you think I should grow mine out and dye it back to black?”

Ann looks at him like she’s never been more disappointed in her life.

She shakes her head. “You don’t get it….”

* * *

His supposed _ticks_ are so obvious. The deliberate curl of a soft, artful lock Goro initially mistook being part of messy bed hair. The tapping of a foot. A bashful hand at his neck whenever he receives a compliment, the immediate downplay that follows like a well-oiled machine.

The charming smirk Kurusu sends the audience is boyish and perhaps a bit cocky, but never outwardly disrespectful or crossing a specific line.

Kurusu dances around the question like it’s his show, and the moderators are all to happy to follow until they’re back to zero after miscellaneous facts and useless anecdotes, only that unbeknownst to all, Kurusu has successfully led them into _his_ ring now, subtly laid out his net of indirect influence.

The same as before, but not quite. 

It’s all so utterly crafted that Goro wants to tear it down, to see what hollowness Kurusu tries to make up with those suave gestures and expressive mimics of his.

When the woman picks Goro out to answer the question regarding the Phantom Thieves, Goro makes sure to wait until he fully established direct eye contact with Kurusu before leaning towards the mic, letting a playful smirk dangle across his lips.

And maybe Goro is playing with a bit of fire, here.

“They unravel the secrets no one wants to find out.”

Too bad he always found the burn to be satisfying. 

And Goro has to applaud Kurusu for not reacting in the slightest – it’s clear he’s _trained_ his body, that at least in front of an audience he’s in absolute control over his every movement. Making up for when he _isn’t_ on some type of stage _._

The only thing Kurusu isn’t able to hide is the glint in his eyes that is too sharp to be attributed to the stark lighting of the studio.

As expected, Kurusu smoothly leads the conversation back onto a topic he's more versed in, but for the remaining duration of the interview his eyes occasionally flicker into Goro’s direction – like he’s not actively trying to make eye-contact, knowing it’d be too obvious, yet wanting to remind himself that those red, piercing eyes competing with his weren't just a product of his imagination.

And from close up, Goro realizes, the boyish charm Kurusu holds evolves into something that dips a dangerous line between handsome and pretty. No wonder people are smitten. He also has the longest eyelashes on a boy Goro has ever seen, surpassing even Yusuke’s.

Goro indulges himself a little by continuing to take in the other's futures while Kurusu is busy telling him something about finding their short debate interesting, transferring over to paraphrasing Hegel and advancement and antithesis and whatnot.

Goro knows what Kurusu’s talking about, but honestly he could care less because he just noticed how goddamn much Kurusu talks.

He really, really wants to shut that pretty mouth of his up, but at least the detective does slip a bit of information past those tempting lips.

Vague, barely accounting to anything when set in comparison to the grander scheme, but Goro has always looked for detail and it’s obvious Kurusu is playing himself up as the opponent for the Phantom Thieves, should they continue their current path in the future.

Goro doesn’t have any doubt they will, because changing the hearts of those rotten adults feels tantalizingly _good,_ and exposing everything they’ve tried to sweep under the carpets for _years_ positively freeing, especially if the exact same secrets harmed too many people to count.

In fact, if Goro also manages to get under the detective’s skin while doing that, he has even _more_ of a reason to continue.

So Goro makes a deal with Kurusu, and he can _feel_ something settling into place like with every other, weird relationship he started, but this time it’s a little _off,_ like a puzzle piece forcefully tried to fit itself into a space that it couldn’t fit in, but adjusted itself so it could do so, anyway.

Justice, huh?

They seal it with a handshake. Goro takes great pleasure in discovering that his hands are bigger. Not dwarfing Kurusu’s hands, per se, but still a noticeable difference if one looks.

The contact lasts perhaps a bit longer than is socially adequate, but neither makes the move to pull away, silently assessing each-other while their mouths continue to speak for them.

It’s a shame Goro can’t feel the other’s skin directly on his due to Kurusu's gloves, but just when it’s clear that they’re going to retract their hands, Goro sees the sliver of a pale wrist, barely peeking out under a tan sleeve.

Goro acts more out of instinct than out of conscious decision, here – before Kurusu pulls away, Goro moves his index finger upward, bypasses the edge of a glove and brushes against that free expanse of skin for the shortest second before retracting his hand just as fast, teasingly tugging a small part of the glove down with him.

Kurusu’s gaze darkens from soft clouds to a visceral storm, and Goro licks his lips.

“Looking forward to see you, detective.”

Said male, to his mild surprise, doesn’t say anything as he turns around with a low smirk playing on his face, briefcase clutched tightly in the hand Goro just gripped, merely bidding him a perfect goodbye.

“Goro,” Morgana hisses.

The not-cat sounds mortified, curious and like he’s dying all at once.

Goro is impressed how he’s able to express so many emotions with two syllables only.

“Warn me next time you flirt with someone. I could practically _hear_ you undressing him.”

“You know that’s not how it works,” Goro bemusedly answers, teasingly knocking his fingers against the part of the bag Morgana usually presses his head against when talking to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be more dialogue in the future chapters, this was just to set everything up!
> 
> I also just noticed how in Canon, Akechi doesn't actually have his briefacse with him in their handshake talk... well, please just pretend Akira does now HAHA I have author powers and this is an AU-
> 
> This is mostly inspired by the countless Role Swap Art on Twitter, starting with Yesuna's haha. I really like the idea of a delinquent Goro who doesn't give too much of a shit and just does what he wants (even though his policy is usually to bully the bullies).
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts about this and I'm grateful for every interaction you're willing to make <3 
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ahhh thank you all for receiving this so well! ;O;**
> 
> Each of your comments make me happy, and I really appreciate whoever sits down to type one even though most of this is already written and 'guaranteed' to get posted, anyway.
> 
> Onto the story! I have no excuse for the billiard date LOL and neither (even less) for chapter 3 that'll follow but I'm telling you the plot (or feels?) will start to surface towards the very end of next chap XD
> 
> Not beta-read. As always, have fun with my self-indulgent writing~

“Something tells me,” Morgana says as soon as he sees Goro typing a positive response to Kurusu’s suggestion for billiard, “that it’s going to be even _worse_ than last time."

"That's you jumping to conclusion," Goro lazily remarks, huffing when the detective sends him a happy gif of a cat.

Through text, Kurusu is just as... _expressive_ as he expected him to be. 

"That's me predicting the future with frightening accuracy. I’ll come with you to Kichijoji, but don't expect me to hang around.”

Goro purposefully runs his fingers in the opposite direction of Morgana's fur, haughtily smirking to himself at the offended cry he receives.

"Suit yourself."

* * *

Kurusu looks a little different without his tan peacoat.

His attire is reduced to a half-sleeved, black dress shirt with tie, pants, shoes and gloves only. It makes Kurusu seem like he fits the dims streetlights and secretive atmosphere of night approaching a little more than artificial sunlight and jovial laughter all around him.

“I admit I was a little worried that you’d decline,” Kurusu chirps as they make their way to Penguin Snipers.

Goro snorts. “Why would I turn you down?”

Kurusu opens the door for him before Goro can, sending him a coy wink. “Well, you come over as a pretty unpredictable person.”

“People usually refer to it as being spontaneous _,_ ” Goro leisurely remarks, eyes drawn to sleek, gloved fingers loosening a tie the moment warm June heat gets exchanged for something distinctively more coped up and mellow, soft chattering filling the remaining space with ease.

The flash of white teeth blinds Goro, even from his peripheral vision. “Well, then I’m glad you didn’t get the sudden impulse to decline my invitation.”

Goro’s been in Penguin Snipers several times since Ann and Ryuji keep dragging him here once in a while, but it feels like a new experience altogether with Kurusu by his side.

Goro has half the mind to shrug his trusted, black leather jacket off, but thinks that Ann would be able to somehow conjure herself next to him to slap him for being _inappropriate_ if he were to strut around in his loose, white tank top in the middle of an open, respected establishment such as this.

(It happened in a diner once already, and Goro doesn't fear many things in his life, but the sheer force behind Ann's dainty hands is definitely not a matter to be taken lightly.)

Then again, he might reconsider that exact decision because Kurusu is lowering his upper body to aim in a way that is anything but _civil._

And Goro can’t quite decide what irritates him the most – Kurusu bending over the pool table so that Goro has to be careful not to break his cue stick due to how much pressure he applies, or Kurusu’s nerve to score a fucking break ace as the first move of their game.

He settles for both.

Kurusu good-heartedly chuckles as he straightens again, bashfully running a hand through his hair as if the last five seconds didn’t just happen.

“Ah, my apologies for the break ace,” the detective says in a tone that implies he’s not sorry at all.

Goro doesn't bother to hide his scowl. “Still your win.”

“Nonsense,” Kurusu replies, already on to set up a new round. “That was pure luck, so it won’t count.”

And Goro knows Kurusu doesn’t mean any of that. 

This break ace counts as much as any other that would have occurred if they were already halfway into the game, and it makes Goro's teeth grit in frustration because he already told Kurusu to keep the win, only for the other to politely insist it doesn't count when they both know it _does._

The game’s already been decided from the start, and two hours fly by before Goro knows it.

The sweet detective reveals a few more snippets of himself, saying he doesn’t have much friends – a confession that Goro doesn’t doubt the honesty of, for once. In return, Goro reveals that while such people recently entered his life, he’s doubting the validity of that statement every minute he spends with them.

“They sound like a rather lovely bunch,” Kurusu laughs after one of Goro's shorter tales, lining up another shot with what could only be practiced ease.

He's still bending over in that same, irritating way that has Goro subtly re-distributing his weight from one leg to another in an effort to concentrate a little more on the game and a little less on how Kurusu’s ass stretches the material of his dress pants.

Goro shakes his head, smirking lightly when he recalls the dumbfound look Ryuji carried when he’d been able to bench more weight than him the first time Goro let himself be convinced to go to the gym, or how Morgana exclaims his absolute horror every instance Goro deems 3AM to be the best time to watch one more episode of Featherman.

“I’d trade them for many things in the world,” Goro finally says, unable to suppress the twitch of his mouth. 

Kurusu gives him a look over his shoulder. “Somehow, I doubt and don’t doubt that statement all at once.”

In the end, Goro misses the last shot of the evening.

Not because he’s _bad_ at billiards (he went here several times, after all, practiced in his own time when he made sure Morgana was bribed with Sushi so no one could catch him sating his genetic need to _always_ be better whenever it got competitive, even if it means having to improve at a sport that consist of pushing around balls with a stick) _,_ but rather because Kurusu is pretty good, considerably closer in distance than before and _still_ talking about the most random things that just happen to cross his mind.

Kurusu’s always doing that when Goro isn’t responding for a longer amount of time (Goro simply lets the barrage of spoken words ricochet off of him more often than not), and he has the inkling feeling Kurusu _knows_ and fully takes advantage of it just because he can, trying to squeeze a reaction out of Goro that isn't one sentence or the occasional, unimpressed grunt. 

Kurusu is just so goddamn distracting that it's hard to concentrate overall, pretty eyes and an elegance present in each of his moves that easily dip into languidness if Goro does so much as blink at the wrong time.

It's all rather inconvenient. 

Due to that, Goro only notices what’s been surreptitiously bugging him for the entire duration of this evening (aside from the fact that the detective can't play like a normal person) _after_ Kurusu manages to push the last billiard ball into its respective place, raising his upper body from that ridicioulus position and twirling a lone strand of hair.

“You didn’t use your dominant hand,” Goro nearly growls, perhaps a bit darker than intended before Kurusu can open his mouth and spout some bullshit over this being a fun and fair game when it’s clear the other had been going _easy_ on him all along.

He eyes the teasing expanse of sharp collarbones (Kurusu has unbuttoned his shirt a little at some point in the game), cursing himself for being attentive to wholly different things.

Goro really wants to sink his teeth into them. 

Genuine surprise flickers over Kurusu’s face for a brief moment before he re-arranges it into something unusually neutral.

“It’s admirable you were able to pick up on that,” he slowly remarks, tapping the end of his cue stick with his left fingers, the material of the gloves dulling the sound.

“You’re correct. I’m rather dexterous with my right hand - to the point I can pick up chopsticks and stab people to death with them.”

What an awfully interesting choice of comparison. Goro lifts an eyebrow, still more than irritated about this whole ordeal for a variety of reasons. 

“I doubt that requires much skill.”

“Oh, it does, especially if you want to go for a clean and painless kill without too much blood,” Kurusu laughs, one hand on his hip in a show of nonchalance. 

The absurd notion of Kurusu killing people with chopsticks only is both hilarious and concerning at once, as Goro finds. 

The corners of Kurusu's mouth lift as his eyes become more piercing than before.

“Frankly, I didn’t really expect you to see it, but I'd be lying if parts of me wouldn't have entertained the thought.”

Goro feels his eyes narrowing as a response. Wonders if Kurusu knows the glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose are fake. “I see a lot of things."

He receives a chuckle as a response.

“I noticed.”

Kurusu’s words come a little breathless, and Goro feels a low swirl of heat in his gut in return.

The rest of the people around them start to fade into white noise the longer he stares Kurusu down. The previous light, if a bit tense atmosphere morphs into something more sensuous with how much Goro feels their auras clashing with each other, ringing for something that has yet to be defined, but both vaguely want.

They're a shoulder width apart - it'd be pretty easy to close that distance.

Morgana is probably exuberantly happy he isn't here to witness this. 

Kurusu gives another chuckle, unnecessarily twirling his cue stick once before tilting his head at him, gaze heavy.

“If you manage to win against me, I’ll go all out on you.”

Goro meets his eyes with the darkness he knows sits within Kurusu, even if the other does his best not to let it surface. 

“No holding back.”

Goro hates it when people don’t give it their all for seemingly noble and empathetic reasons.

Holding back to give your opponent a pitiful _chance_ could very well cost one's head - honor and rightfulness have no business on the battlefield. The Metaverse solidified what Goro already experienced in a tamer version when he'd still been alone at fighting his way through the school years, having only his mother to show his wounds to. 

Goro knows a billiard match can't fully be equated to anything of that, but his own defeat still sits at the edge of his tongue, the bitter taste only sweetened by the tantalizing notion of besting Kurusu _and_ his dominant at some point in the future. 

Oh, he _will._

By then, Goro hopefully also succeeded in peeling away some of those persistent layers that protect Kurusu like petals full of viscous thorns.

“No holding back,” Kurusu promises in a deceivingly sweet tone, smirking as he buttons up his dress shirt again, tie back to sitting snugly around his neck.

When they leave the building, Goro is tempted to just pull the detective into the next alley and make true of their words and palpable heat sparking between them. Especially since Kurusu has the audacity to lick his lips before bidding him a polite goodbye that doesn’t match the daring expression on his face at all.

But Goro… likes this challenge, likes that they’re playing an unknown game without ever having established any sorts of rules or goals. 

A single loss won't matter if he's going to win the longer and bigger one, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yh like I said I have no excuse for this-
> 
> Also, I'm kind of dying for Akira in a half sleeved, black dress shirt with gloves? The notion alone is too powerful, especially when picturing his smug face.
> 
> **Thank you for reading!**
> 
> Very excited (and proud and shameful) to post chap 3 the day after tomorrow, haha.
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't defend myself in this chapter, I can just repeat that I swear this has plot XD
> 
> Not beta-read, but have fun reading!

When Goro meets Kurusu for the fourth time (fifth if he counts the one instance where they briefly met in Shibuya station, waiting for their respective trains to arrive), it’s by chance.

Goro didn’t really plan on going to Kichijoji for the purpose of seeing the detective, but at the same time he also can’t really remember what he went here for in the first place when he sees Kurusu standing by Penguin Snipers again, phone in hand, face grim – an expression Goro hasn’t seen until now.

He commits it to memory before he breaks the illusion by approaching him.

“Kurusu.”

“Akechi-kun,” Kurusu says in a pleasant tone, any trace of suppressed malice gone, swiftly slipping the electronical device into his pocket to give Goro his full attention.

“How nice to see you. Going for an evening stroll in Kichijoji?”

“Looking for my cat,” Goro says.

There’s slight movement in his bag, Morgana whispering to him in bristled hisses. “Hey! I’m not gone _yet,_ but I will if you keep this up! Also, I'm not a cat!”

Kurusu raises an eyebrow. “Your… cat? Here in Kichijoji?”

“A ghastly beast that likes to travel. Not something I recommend getting,” Goro grunts, thinking of what a fucking ordeal it is to get all the cat hair out of his clothing and bed.

A reason why Morgana isn't allowed on it, but something the cat does most of the time anyway just to annoy him. 

“I hope they pick a different trickster next time,” Goro hears Morgana mutter under his breath. "Someone less rude and more appreciative of what I do."

The chuckle Kurusu hides behind the back of a hand would be an endearing gesture if Goro hadn’t already seen him doing it several times on TV.

Not that Goro made a conscious effort to supervise the TV for the detective whenever he lounged in one of the booths in Leblanc, but Goro can’t deny looking up from whatever homework he’d been doodling (skipping) on whenever that sweet voice happened to resound within the café.

Screen Kurusu is different from the Kurusu he’d seen live on the TV station, who in turn is different from the one standing before him. Each Kurusu doesn’t differ from each other _too_ much to be very noticeable, but the more or less subtle nuances make Goro’s finger twitch with annoyance anyway.

It’s like Kurusu is _constantly_ adapting, restless water that can’t decide to settle on a distinctive shape, but continues to flow in some sort of rhythm anyway, carving its own path in case it needs to.

This Kurusu is less expressive with his gestures, but his mouth curls all the more dangerously.

“If you have time, would you care accompanying me to a cute, little café? It’s just down the street,” the detective says, pointing towards his left.

“I’ve gone there with a work colleague a week ago, but my… _fans_ have started harassing him for not meeting my supposed standards. Well, they _are_ quite high, I suppose.”

Goro feels irrational bitterness running through him at hearing that.

The thought of Kurusu having gone with someone else prior him creates an in-explainable discomfort within him. Not big enough to really put him out of it, but not too small either to simply brush it off and be done with it.

However, he does feel some tension leave him when Kurusu makes a show out of raking his eye up and down Goro’s body, stopping at his face. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem with you, though.”

Damn right. Goro even wears his hair in a rare pony-tail for once that Yusuke and Ann always try to get pictures of – not a look he usually goes for since it makes him appear even more prim in combination with his glasses, but he does like catching people off-guard with his rather brusque and direct nature (and his clothes) in turn.

Kurusu tilts his head in a questioning manner, eye-smiling at him. “What do you say? Shall we?”

Goro nods, Morgana silently groans.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

It’s honestly not a bad experience, sitting here with Kurusu in this small café. Goro would go so far as saying he's enjoying himself – the tension that usually uncoils like thick fog around them is barely present, making place for lighter conversations which Goro finds himself getting roped into more willingly than he thought.

If Morgana were here instead of having disappeared at the next possible opportunity, he might have even reconsider his opinion over the detective. 

Café Kurusu is yet another derivation of overall Kurusu he finds himself unusually drawn to, his face a bit more relaxed, not contorting into expressive visuals often and voice a tad lower, too.

Kurusu shares that he has a rather big sweet tooth and needs to exercise a lot to compensate. Goro finds himself making an effort to contribute to the conversation as well, playing around questions and seemingly offhanded comments he'd written of as irrelevant at first.

It almost feels like they’re friends who just got to know each-other, and the thought doesn’t put Goro off as much as he thought it would since isn't this basically what they're doing at the moment, even if the _other_ issue still remains unresolved?

It’s clear Kurusu is going to be yet another bond that will aid him in his journey for rehabilitation or whatever Igor is spouting ominous words about, albeit different and stranger than the others.

Goro wants to fuck that sweet and charming façade out of Kurusu to uncover the beast he knows lurks beneath those astute eyes, but if he gets a person, a _friend_ more or less by his side that keeps him on his toes and presents him with challenges Goro finds himself getting lured into?

The easy atmosphere gets the first dents when the first person recognizes Kurusu to be someone they’ve seen on TV.

“Wasn’t his name Kurusu-kun? You know, the next-generation Detective Prince…?”

“Oh, you think so?”

Goro crosses his arm in annoyance. He'd just been knee-deep into a serious debate whether it's socially acceptable to bite ice cream or not, only for the moment to be ruined by some random _girls._

Are they even trying to be subtle?

“Should we ask him for an autograph?” one whispers loudly to the other.

_Fucking idiots._

A quick look at Kurusu confirms that his face has long hardened into something plastic again. Goro doesn’t like to see the efforts of his evening reverted.

“Wops, looks like I’ve been found out,” Kurusu humorlessly chuckles, eyeing the few crumbs left of his strawberry cake.

It only then occurs to Goro that the other’s celebrity status always fell off his radar. He’s never really perceived Kurusu as an detective overall, which is kind of ironic because Goro has literally attended a live interview _and_ watched him whenever a show happened to come up that starred Kurusu.

Before Goro can untangle _why_ that realization bothers him, more fans take notice of Kurusu.

“Is it a celebrity?”

“An autograph might be something worth bragging about...”

“Time’s up,” Kurusu sighs, looking genuinely displeased about the fact that their time was interrupted. “I wish we could have talked a bit longer... should have expected this to happen.”

"I can just scare them off," Goro graciously offers, crossing his arms.

Kurusu looks at him like Goro just suggested a very unfunny joke. 

"I do appreciate the offer," Kurusu says with a dainty smile on his face. "But I think it's best if we don't complicate things."

He twirls his hair in-between gloved fingers again - a motion maybe not as practiced as Goro thought in the beginning. 

Goro scowls. He’s _not_ going to let some pesky wannabe fans crash whatever kind of date this is, especially not since this is the most laid back he’d felt in two weeks – all this Metaverse and Mementos fuckery, as fun and cathartic as it is, definitely takes its toll at times.

(Goro tends to overdo it once he really gets into the rush of battling shadows, much to Yusuke’s fascination and the rest’s horror, but the exhaustion that follows afterwards is the satisfying kind one could compare with the results of a hard workout.)

Not to mention Kurusu had been looking like he enjoyed their conversations at least on some levels, too, finally losing a bit of the wax he smudges onto his face to play pretend. 

Goro digs his fingers a bit more into his forearm. 

"No," he murmurs, meeting Kurusu's mildly surprised gaze head on. "You’re not going anywhere."

He watches the smallest spark of fury enter Kurusu’s eyes at the half-command. It’s gone so fast that Goro might even consider it to be a placebo effect of what he thinks, _wants_ Kurusu to be.

Kurusu smiles apologetically at him. “I’ll cause problems if I stay,” he curtly explains, looking like he’ll stand up any second with how he’s already rearranging used utensils into a neater picture.

With a tilt of his head, Kurusu briefly pauses in his ministrations as he takes Goro’s appearance in, putting a hand under his chin. “A shame I don’t have straight hair like you. Maybe I would have been able to get out of this situation if I’d just steal your glasses. Then again, I don’t have a hair tie with me.”

People are still staring, their murmurs getting louder and attracting even more attention.

It all gives Goro the _perfect_ idea.

“Stay still,” he quickly says as he stands up, closing the distance between them with two steps.

“Huh?” Kurusu intelligently says as he witnesses Goro already bending over him with a positively mischievous smile dancing on his face. “Hey, what are you-?!”

Goro doesn’t waste much time. Using Kurusu’s surprised state to his advantage, Goro blocks his way of escape by gripping Kurusu’s backrest with his right hand and proceeds to yank at that stupidly striped tie with his other, quickly loosening it.

Kurusu is still too busy gaping at his blunt actions to defend himself. “A-akechi-kun? Just what do you think you-” His protests end in a small cry when his head gets yanked to the side by his hair and further develops into a breathless gasp the moment Goro dives down to latch onto the newly exposed skin of a pale neck.

Goro would victoriously smirk if he weren’t so busy marking up his territory when he feels two shaky hands clutch at his shirt, and the weak whine Kurusu is unable to hold back the moment Goro sucks even harder successfully coerces him into moving his lips upwards to leave a second mark right on the side of his throat, teasingly licking over the flesh once he’s sure the detective will need several layers of make-up to cover it up.

The pleasant heat from Kurusu’s close proximity is gone the moment Goro detaches from him (supported by a _push_ from Kurusu - seems like he finally gained some coherency), but it still curls in pleasant waves in his system that he feels like purring.

Goro quickly puts his own glasses onto Kurusu’s face before he strides back to his seat, leaning forward to prop his chin on his hand in semblance of smugness the moment he sits down.

As expected, the stunned silence from around them doesn’t last too long.

“Hey, is that boy really Kurusu-kun?”

“I don’t know, but I definitely didn’t need to see that.”

“Kurusu-kun is straight, right? Petty sure those two are boyfriends.”

“Look at how flustered the guy is! Well, maybe you were just seeing things.”

The crowd disperses.

Goro doesn’t think he’s ever felt this _c_ _omplacent_ at making another person blush.

Kurusu looks positively delicious, pink on his cheeks just as prominent as the two marks Kurusu is now trying to cover up by fixing his clothing again.

Surprisingly, the glasses suit him in an aloof way, even if they’re slightly askew on his face. They quite possibly add even more charm into the picture.

The detective doesn’t even _bother_ to hide his murderous looks as he stares Goro down, and it only intensifies the moment he sees Goro’s smirk growing even wider. It’s just unfortunate that Goro doesn’t feel threatened by the metaphorical daggers sent his way in the slightest, not when Kurusu desperately tries and fails to school his face into something that doesn’t reveal what just happened in the span of only some seconds, just as pink as before.

Definitely from embarrassment _and_ anger. 

It makes him almost endearing, really, especially because Kurusu is still fumbling around with his tie and collar, looking increasingly flustered. 

Goro’d rather tell Morgana he has a chance with Ann before he’d bring it over himself to tell Kurusu the dark bruise on the middle of his throat is _still_ visible, no matter how high he pulls his collar up.

“… I can't believe you actually did that,” Kurusu mutters under his breath as he hands Goro his glasses back. 

Goro chuckles. He decides to hook them on his shirt instead of putting them back on his face again to fully take in Kurusu’s face without a thin, slightly smudged plastic sheen separating them.

Kurusu looks as put together as two minutes before, smile just a bit tighter than usual, but the mark on his throat still ruins everything he outwardly managed to fix.

“Your methods are... unorthodox,” Kurusu warily says. He sighs, shaking his head as he gives Goro a stern glare. Falters a second for reasons Goro can’t quite place. “ _And_ I could report you for sexual harassment.”

Clearly Kurusu expects Goro to answer or explain his actions, but Goro just shrugs, giving the other a conceited smile.

“You didn’t protest. Not much, at least."

"That doesn't mean you could just- _do_ that!" Kurusu exasperatedly huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. 

Goro can't help but give a lazy grin, brushing some strands out of his face as he winks at the other. "Remind me to take a picture next time.”

“I really need to watch myself around you,” Kurusu mumbles, adamantly ignoring his response. God, seeing him so worked up over trivial things is almost cute.

“You don't have any manners, but I think I learned a valuable lesson nonetheless - thinking more outside the box when it seems hopeless." Kurusu puts a hand to his chin, incredulous expression softening.

One corner of Kurusu's mouth lifts the tiniest amount, showcasing what Goro estimates to be the closest thing to a _real_ smile he's gotten out of the detective.

Kurusu breaks out in light laughter, shaking his head. “Well, I think our coffee is cold now. Should we order new ones? Oh, how about another piece of cake, too?”

Goro agrees, if only to get the sudden dryness out of his throat. 

* * *

Goro's phone rings the moment he's about to open the door to Leblanc. It’s like every single person he chooses to hang out with for the day has an inbuilt timer to know when exactly to call for them to continue that streak.

Goro isn’t surprised when he sees Kurusu’s name as he accepts the call, but a pleasant feeling lets his fingertips tingle anyway as he accepts the call.

“Akechi-kun! It’s me, hello. A shame our discussion got interrupted halfway, but I wanted to let you know I really did really enjoy our evening.”

It’s even harder for Goro to make sense out of Kurusu by his voice only, but he’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for once since Goro can’t help but agree with a wistful smile dancing on his own face.

“Same,” he remarks, perhaps a bit softer than he wanted to. Goro slips his keys back inside his pockets, turning around to absentmindedly observe the dark alley Leblanc is coped up in.

Would Kurusu find his way here someday, too?

“You really did surprise me today, you know? Can’t believe you had the guts to pull such a stunt. I’ll have to choose my words more carefully around you.” A teasing chuckle. “Who knows what you’re capable of.”

“I’ll gladly dress you up again,” Goro says, making sure to dip his voice just a bit deeper than usual towards the end.

He can’t help but laugh at the audible splutter he receives.

They talk only for a while longer until Kurusu has to hang up, claiming he still needs to get a little bit of work done. 

"What's gotten you into such a good mood, brat?" Sojiro greets Goro with the moment he enters Leblanc. "I don't think you hate Leblanc, but 've never also seen you smiling when entering this place."

"The detective," Morgana complains loudly from his bag. "God, even their phone calls are weird. Why aren't you like this with Lady Ann? She's a much better choice than whatever you're trying to go for with Kurusu."

Goro is tempted to _not_ let the cat out of his beg for the rest of the evening. 

"Nothing important," Goro answers, heading towards the staircase that would lead him to his attic. 

No, talking and chatting with Kurusu is just... fun.

Yeah, that's what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically Goro didn't need to put his glasses on him, but I think he felt like he needed to do _something_ other than the rather creative way he shooed the fans away, totally not because the author of this fic thought of this scenario instead of a slight variaton of the usual hair-ruffle scene :)
> 
> Also, I doubt Akira minded too much-
> 
> As promised, feelings and plot will kick in starting next chapter! Thank you for following until now~
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh recently some people referred to my insane update schedule and if I was taking care of myself since I keep publishing stuff. Thank you so much for caring haha! I can assure that I'm not neglecting university (too much :D) and that I feel perfectly fine health wise.
> 
> (Since the lockdown in my country my hobbies have been reduced to writing fanfictions and playing videogames anyway, so that contributes...)
> 
> The stories may seem a lot at once because, as I stated multiple times, I usually get the fanfics done before I post them! This Role Swap AU, for example, is already 100% done and I'm merely publishing the finished chapters - correcting a few things here and there, but nothing much.
> 
> Regardless, it means a lot that some of you noticed it! Sorry for the heavy talk, I just really wanted to thank you haha. Here is the unbetad chapter 4~

Goro hasn’t seen Kurusu in about a month and a half. 

During July, Goro’d been fully busy with getting thick headed but determined Makoto out of Kaneshiro’s stubbly fingers and prevented their photos from getting leaked by changing the filth’s heart (a matter which Goro gladly undertook because he _loathes_ people who flaunt their money like it grows on fucking trees).

There's the issue with the White Mask, too - Madarame only mentioned them, but Kaneshiro was the second person to ominously refer directly to another user of the Metaverse that dwindles in the darker interpretations of it. 

It's been sitting at the edge of his mind since then whenever the Phantom Thieves would go to Mementos, but Goro doubts they can do much about it if White Mask doesn't confront them first - a scenario he'd like to avoid because Goro is very certain the other user has much more experience in the Metaverse than them, even taking the Phantom Thieves' number advantage into account. 

No, _especially_ taking White Mask's number disadvantage into account, provided the person is operating alone. 

Goro knows Kurusu himself had been rather occupied with the increasingly negative turning attention on him for criticizing the Phantom Thieves, a fact the detective likes to lament about in the most random hours of the night.

They did pick up the habit to text each-other to make up for the fact that their schedules collide more often than not, and while Kurusu likes to joke about the entire matter and play it off, Goro has vague suspicions on how much everything is actually affecting him (which he really tries not to care for).

They manage to secure a free evening on the first day of August.

Goro himself feels a bit more cranky than usual since Futaba’s goddamn tomb is _hot,_ making Goro positively sweat in his entirely black get-up (in times like these he regrets having a full visor as his mask, too, even if it does give him this sort of unhinged edge he’s rather fond of), and the amount of sand just makes it worse.

When Goro gets ready for the evening, Morgana doesn’t hop into his bag like usual.

The cat watches him with narrowed eyes so intently that he turns around, quirking an eyebrow.

Goro already knows what Morgana's going to say - his so called _affection_ for a certain detective has already made its round throughout the Phantom Thieves (chat), met with neutrality for the most part, only dipped into wary apprehension by Kurusu's opposing occupation. 

Morgana especially is the one to always speak his concerns about Kurusu out aloud. 

“You’re going to meet up with _him_ again, aren’t you?"

Goro absentmindedly nods, contemplates what he should change into since he didn't leave Leblanc aside from going out to school today and the heat doesn't really call for his usual wardrobe. 

"I’m just gonna stay here," Morgana continues, huffing from where he's curled up on the table. "You know what I'd lecture you about at the moment, right?"

Goro _does_ and has half the mind to stuff Morgana into his bag anyway, forcing the cat to accompany him to his date with Kurusu where he’d lay it on extra thick _just for his beloved Mona_ , but chooses to not give into his pettiness for once, leaving everything at home aside from a few necessities after he decided on an outfit. 

Even if talking or texting with Kurusu has become an activity Goro's rather grown fond of - it's just a game they're playing. 

* * *

In Kichijoji, he discovers that Kurusu doesn’t look too much better than him if the exhaustion latching onto his shoulders and eyes is anything to go by.

Goro almost missed it, though, because Kurusu’s getup for the middle of summer apparently consists of an oversized, plaid blue cardigan with skin-tight jeans and his usual, black dress-shirt tucked in – at least without his usual tie Goro more often than not just wants to _tug_ at.

It’s a disgusting mix of cute and casual, even if the metal briefcase with a sharp _K_ couldn’t have been a greater contrast to his relatively soft attire.

“It’s the middle of fucking August,” Goro says once he’s close enough, frowning at Kurusu.

Goro himself is wearing a sleeveless shirt to combat the heat, a sight Kurusu must surely appreciate with how his eyes are drawn to Goro’s arms instead of his face immediately upon noticing his presence.

“No _Hello Kurusu-kun_ for me? How rude,” Kurusu playfully scoffs, anything but put off at having been caught staring as he drags his eyes up again.

 _How shameless,_ Goro amusedly thinks. 

“A person who dresses like we’re in the middle of Autumn doesn’t deserve a proper greeting.”

“I’m rather sensitive to temperature,” Kurusu justifies himself, pouting. His tone holds less playfulness than usual with how worn his eyes are.

Goro is sure he can make out some eye bags, too, and wonders how much sleep the other gets.

Not much, if Goro recalls some of Kurusu's texts he'd only read after waking up. 

“Well, now that we solved the mystery of my clothing – there’s a… special place I’ve wanted to visit with you for a while. Mind if I take you there?”

 _This is nothing serious,_ Goro reminds himself when his heart gives a weak flutter at the prospect of Kurusu wanting to take him somewhere he most likely doesn’t just bring anyone to. 

And grabs those thoughts and throws them away immediately. Sneers because what exactly does he need to _remind_ himself of, again?

* * *

It’s nice. And, as always, different from all the other meet ups he has with his confidants, different from Billiard Kurusu, different from Café Kurusu.

It’s Goro’s first time in the jazz club, and he has to admit that just like Leblanc, it has a certain, eccentric charm to it – dark colors that are easy on the eye, an overall relaxed ambiance that quickly gets Goro to inhale and exhale more consciously, some invisible weight beginning to fall off of him as if it slowly dissipates into the air. 

Kurusu looks a little more relaxed, too – not as open like in the café, but more intimate. Perhaps a bit raw, usual straight posture settling for a more natural slouch when a woman starts the performance for the evening, adding into the soothing atmosphere with a rich, but soft voice.

Not much words are spoken this time, both choosing to simply take everything around them in as it is, occasionally sipping at their ordered drinks, entertaining thoughts for no more than a few seconds as simplicity reigns.

It should be odd, Goro thinks, remembering how their meet-ups went before, full of playful jabs and offhanded comments instead of gentle silence.

And yet it isn't.

When the singer goes for a break after half an hour, Kurusu is the one to start speaking up again in a quiet, strangely soothing voice.

He still talks a lot, as if to make up for the time he didn’t, but Goro finds himself less annoyed by it like all the other times, and starts to think more about how he could get Kurusu to say what he _wants,_ not what he _needs._

With any other person, especially with the reminder of their game still lingering in the background, Goro would have long dragged out whatever Kurusu is hiding by now. Sink his fangs into the vulnerable spots that become larger and more prominent each day he spends with the detective until it’d spill over in his own hands like all the other times he watched people break in front of his eyes, fragility exposed.

Goro somehow finds himself unable to as he’s fixated on the way Kurusu’s eyes shine in the dim lighting as he continues talking about how much he wants to have a cat, but his current living arrangement doesn’t allow him to have one.

This Kurusu, Goro realizes, is much more affected by the media turning against each and every word he says so suddenly than he lets on.

Goro can only imagine how it’d feel for someone who cares about his reputation so much, who _relies_ on it, too – for the more or less trusted stream that carries him to change and cause more ripples than the water would like.

This Kurusu is less a detective and more of a human just like Goro.

Tired, fed up with the world and all the life around him, perhaps a little more than everyone else, and it _eats_ away.

If Goro can understand one thing, then it’s _that,_ but unlike Kurusu, Goro has chosen to just not give a fuck on most shit, lets other people talk and perceive him the way they want to.

Anything else is _stressful_ since no one will ever be completely satisfied with you.

Kurusu clearly cares too much about too many things – or perhaps about too few. 

So Goro orders another round of ridiculously colored, nonalcoholic cocktails when their drinks are empty, and starts talking for a reason he doesn't really want to properly explore at the moment.

How his father left them early for another woman, how his mother is the strongest person he’s seen in his life, fighting for full custody and raising Goro maybe a bit chaotically, but better than anything he could have wished for.

About his tale of punching the wrong man square in the face that’s most likely the reason he’s able to sit here with a famous detective now, on probation.

Goro doesn’t go too much into detail, keeps it vague at the right parts, but Kurusu probably knew a lot anyway because he is the only person who’s ever been able to challenge Goro while being more than formidable at keeping up, too.

The only person that managed to keep Goro's interest for this _long_ while still remaining a largely unresolved mystery.

Goro really doesn't know why he tells him all of this.

Kurusu at least listens. Doesn’t smile and nod at the right parts like usual, neutral line of his mouth only making one notable twitch when Goro mentions he was (kind of) framed, as if Kurusu’s concentrated on something else beyond Goro’s current comprehension. 

But Goro honestly prefers this over the perfect, attentive listener and way too talkative entertainer.

In a sense, Kurusu looks relieved that he doesn’t need to do much for once. And the moment both of them sense the mellow evening being on the verge of tilting into a sharper, harder direction that would be hard to get out of, Kurusu reels the conversation back to topics that weigh a little less on their shoulders with a smile that doesn’t look as tired and as forced as before.

“Coffee and curry, huh? I probably don’t cook as often as I should at home. How about you, Akechi-kun?” Kurusu tilts his head, some strands falling back into his face from where he pushed them out of his way a moment ago.

“Do you cook? You’re practically living in a café.”

“I set the kitchen on fire most of the time,” Goro confesses, not bothering to hide the mild ~~fondness~~ annoyance in his tone at the memory of when his mother nearly gave him a concussion with how loud she screeched at seeing the legitimate fire Goro once caused.

He grimaces at the memory. “I learned that at an early age. Boss only lets me do coffee and some specific dishes, but I can guarantee they're damn good, though.”

"I should visit sometimes, then."

Kurusu chuckles, pushing his straw around an empty glass. Goro finds the unnecessary motion strangely hypnotizing, probably because he never realized how elegant and fragile his fingers are.

Did those really arrest criminals at one point in his life?

Goro feels the strange urge to grab his hand and compare sizes. 

“That’s still more experience than I have. I had a cooking class once, but at the end of it, I couldn’t even get the fish out of the pan. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be glued to it.”

They both chuckle.

“Strange,” Goro comments after a few heartbeat pass, looking over Kurusu like he hasn’t done it more times than he can count already. “You somehow strike me as a person who knowns their way around a kitchen.”

He tries to get the sudden image of Kurusu in an apron out of his head.

“I’ve never brought anyone else here before,” Kurusu suddenly says, and the change in topic is so abrupt that Goro rewinds his memory and remembers and- no, he didn’t miss anything or space out for some seconds to have possibly missed the transition between cooking and… whatever Pandora's box Kurusu's opening right now.

“It’s always been a place to relax and unwind alone. For me to have brought you here...” Kurusu trails off, averting his eyes to look towards the now empty stage. Goro hasn’t really noticed that the singer is long gone, along with most of the patrons. 

Kurusu isn’t as… seemingly fragile as he was some moments ago, but his gaze has turned to unreadable once more when Goro locks their gazes again.

“I guess it just shows we have a special connection, don’t you think?”

* * *

Goro might have lied a bit about being able to cook a few dishes – he's actually only capable of making pancakes, but _that_ is an art Goro has perfected.

Fluffy or more chewy, flat or thicker – Goro can do it all because it’s his mother’s favorite dish, the only one he’d ever been able to make without burning everything to the ground.

Of course Goro needed to perfect at least that.

The notion of serving Kurusu some homemade pancakes if he’s going to go back on his open suggestion and stop by – it’s an image that coaxes Goro into allowing Morgana to curl up against him for once.

The next day, Goro wakes up to fur in his mouth and a text from Kurusu, stating that Goro’s been the first person he ever brought to the Jazz bar with him.

Goro blames the mild warmth spreading through him on the strange comfort blankets are prone to give only in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AhAHhH we're slowly getting there, 4 more chapters to go hehe~
> 
> Don't have much to say since I put most of it in the beginning note. Thank you for reading up until now!
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say, except that I might change this fic from having 8 to 10 chapters since I just realized the ending is a bit longer than I thought it'd be XD
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading!

Goro feels like he can sleep for two weeks straight and not regret a single thing.

They’re almost done with Futaba’s palace, but all this heat and this fucking _sand_ that gets inside his skin-tight bodysuit every time he so much as breathes (even in a completely _sandless_ area) only contributes to the nightmares he keeps getting about that sweltering place, further deteriorating his sleep to questionable levels.

One of the only good things in his life is the torrential rain currently seeking Shibuya and its surrounding cities home – it cools down the overall temperature, and it enables Goro to wear his leather jacket again without any problems.

The other good things consists of a shit ton of coffee, meetings with the Phantom Thieves outside the Metaverse for once and Kurusu visiting Leblanc.

So far, the detective has found his way into the humble café Goro lives in only two times, but he’d lie if he says he doesn’t hope to see a curly mop of black hair each times he comes back from school or moves from his attic downstairs to socialize.

Because their talks are... nice.

Goro's been using that generic word way too often for a while now, but it just seems to summarize how he's feeling towards the detective better than any other adjectives.

It's just gotten a little too easy to forget his initial intentions whenever Kurusu's eyes soften from gunmetal to a warm, feathery grey, when the ever-present smirk is replaced by that small twitch of a mouth which is a lot more endearing than whatever kind of personality Kurusu decides to go with for that day's public appearance.

It doesn't help that Kurusu gives him the feeling that Goro is the only one he drops his masks for a little, too, seemingly rejecting anyone else's company. 

And maybe it's selfish - Goro's increasing want to monopolize what small amount of free time the detective has to see more of him, but then again, Kurusu is so responsive (and looks like he needs it) as well, always suggesting or agreeing. 

Never batting an eyelash at Goro's colorful vocabulary at times unlike his other friends, rather encouraging it with a sly, knowing look on his face.

Playing along, fighting and challenging and flirting back in the same breath - somehow keeping Goro close and at arms length at once. 

As fun as it is, it's also... frustrating, to say the least.

* * *

“An arcade?”

Kurusu’s eyebrows furrow as the detective stares the one who suggested it down.

Goro leans against the shelves behind the counter, slightly cocking his head at the clearly rhetorical question. 

Kurusu’s coffee is already empty, but it doesn’t stop him from playing with the spoon in the way Goro already knows to recognize as a silent plead to ' _please fill up my cup again, thank you'_. 

“To unwind,” Goro curtly explains, not moving to comply with the unspoken request. 

He hangs his apron on the appropriate hook, indicating he’s more than ready to leave Leblanc to Sojiro who’s been suspiciously quiet ever since Kurusu walked into Leblanc in all his cardigan and black dress-shirt glory.

Kurusu pouts at him, probably having figured out by now that he's not going to get another cup unless he specifically declines Goro's current offer or asks for it.

He won't.

"I think we both could use a little bit of fun today," Goro offers.

Kurusu's pout stays. Goro kind of wants to wipe it off his face. 

"What makes you think I didn't already have it?"

Goro smirks instead of answering, revels in the frown Kurusu makes.

What they both actually need right now is probably something more _relaxing,_ but for some reason beyond him, Goro's really in the mood to beat Kurusu in a game that involves killing everyone and everything in sight, preferably with a lot of fucking blood.

Maybe it's just his pent-up sexual frustration that's been really starting to peak lately.

Goro has been physically _unable_ to find another person to sleep with (for proper relief that doesn't involve just a hand) because Kurusu's stupid face keeps popping up as soon as he even entertains such thoughts, and looking at the way Kurusu is coyly perched on his stool, Goro can't quite believe they _still_ haven't fucked after all this time. 

Kurusu must be thinking (more or less) the same with the way his eyes gain a challenging glint, the intensity not lessened by the eye bags that are prominent even through the make-up.

He looks as tired as I feel, Goro thinks.

“Sure, why not?”

* * *

“Are you good at these type of games?”

“I’m not great at them,” Goro blatantly says, leaving it for the other to figure out if he just lied or spoke the truth.

It doesn’t really have much of an impact anyway, not if Kurusu will give his best regardless of his answer.

This isn’t like their first time in billiards after all, and Goro notes with a distant sense of accomplishment that Kurusu is picking up the model gun with his _left_ hand, eyeing it curiously in a manner that makes Goro think it’s _really_ Kurusu’s first time here.

Goro’d ask what the other _does_ in his life that he never went to an arcade before, but Goro is reminded that he actually does know, has listened to Kurusu venting about his boring, daily life for a while now that doesn't seem to leave much place for anything that doesn't involve typing in font size 10 and attending annoying TV shows.

“Well, I feel challenged nonetheless,” Kurusu says, smirking at him. “Go easy on me, would you?”

Goro gives him a smirk in response, too, and picks up his own gun, feeling his competitive need to win overriding his need for proper rest. 

“I won’t guarantee for anything.”

Turns out Kurusu is damn fucking _good_ at this game.

Good may be an understatement.

And it’s strange, because Goro _knows_ the other hasn’t played this type of game before with how his score keeps falling back whenever something new gets introduced in a level that’s common scheme throughout all types of shooter games, but then Kurusu just catches up monstrously fast right after so that Goro can’t help but sneak glances at him, willing to sacrifice some valuable points in return.

Goro’s experience with guns is limited to the Metaverse. He doubts he can really compare it to a real-life experience due to the cognition changing how some physics and mechanics work.

Goro may have a better grip and got accustomed to this gamer faster than the average person who didn't play anything haptic like this before, but he’d wager quite a lot of money that Kurusu’s stance is nearly perfect.

His posture, how utterly _focused_ his eyes are, how quickly and _precisely_ he moves the gun around. He’s delivering head-shot after head-shot without so much as breaking in sweat.

Like it's normal for Kurusu, something he's used to. 

Goro is _kind of_ doing it on a more or less daily basis when exploring the Metaverse with the Phantom Thieves, but _this_ is on another level of concentrated destruction.

It’s inconveniently hot, too, the easy nonchalance in which Kurusu kills animated people and monsters without moving his feet at all, _still_ dressed in such casual attire, but luckily Kurusu is too immersed into the game, busy breaking the record on the hardest level _for two people_ that he doesn’t notice that Goro has already stopped playing in favor of watching the other.

Goro won’t win anyway, he knows, and the anger that usually comes with the rare promise of losing just... doesn't, mild irritation at something else replacing it instead.

The only strange thing Goro notices is that Kurusu’s right hand more often than not twitches along with each jerk of his gun’s movement – a tick Goro doesn’t know how to comprehend in a way that makes sense, but he’ll keep it in mind anyway, like he's prone to with every other, little reaction Kurusu does.

Goro decides he can _definitely_ take a loss for once in a while if it means he can see Kurusu’s triumphant expression.

It’s utterly smug and couldn’t have been more condescending, a look Goro usually _loathes,_ but it suits Kurusu's face just like the smaller, gentler smiles he sometimes lets Goro see. 

Kurusu's eyes are ablaze, revived from their earlier dead state as he twirls his gun around in an unnecessarily antic of showing off.

Goro would _really_ like to knock him a few pegs down since shameless arrogance is something he also can't stand (even though Goro might be a bit of a hypocrite here), but decides he’ll just save the small amount of frustration at having lost in more ways than one bubbling within him for another time.

Oh, he’ll thoroughly pay Kurusu back in the future, but in this moment, he's more enraptured by the detective's ability to aim and shoot so flawlessly for hisfirst time. 

“Are you used gunplay?” Goro coyly asks as soon as the crowd around them dissipates when it’s clear that the spectacle is over.

Kurusu is still brimming with energy, revitalized through a simple shooting game turned competitive.

Kurusu also splutters a little, and for someone who’s been more or less responding to his advances like Goro expected to, he gains color surprisingly quick.

Another proof that whatever feeling went through Kurusu during the last fifteen minutes was something _real,_ uncurling what the detective usually makes sure to keep hidden.

“Just where are your thoughts going, detective?” Goro can’t help but tease with an expression to match, cocking his head. 

“Certainly not in the one you wish,” Kurusu quickly recovers, running a hand through his hair.

His chest is still heaving – Kurusu really _was_ immersed into the game, and by no small amount, either. Goro thinks a murder could have happened next to him and Kurusu wouldn’t have bat an eyelash at it.

“Ah, but I would say I’m quite versed with guns, though."

"False modesty." Goro snorts. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're pretty damn good."

With the darkness glinting in Kurusu’s eyes, this is going back into a direction he’s more familiar with – addictive and consuming, not tentative and fleeting.

“I need to be if I want to take you down," Kurusu says with a growing smile, then adds a playful, "only a joke, of course."

A vey peculiar one, like all the other Kurusu likes to pull.

Goro licks his lips, watching Kurusu’s eyes instantly dart to the motion like he’s been waiting for it.

“You’re welcome to try,” Goro murmurs. Grins mockingly. “I’m not an easy target.”

The smirk Kurusu offers him is dangerous because it unfurls tantalizingly slow.

“I've always loved a challenge.”

Goro expects this to finally go into the direction he’d planned on since he first met the detective that day in the TV station.

The heat lazily curling between them, both aware of their accelerated breathing, how their surroundings fades into the background again until only their heavy eye contact matters – all are signs for either of them to drag the other by their collar towards the next bathroom to resolve the sheer amount of tension that’s been building up for a few months now.

Goro just doesn’t expect for Kurusu’s gaze to lose its intense shine, reminiscent of how suddenly light vanishes the moment the sun fully disappears behind a simmering, red horizon.

“This… does bring up a lot of memory,” Kurusu tentatively admits.

His whole posture changes from confident, ready-to-prowl-and-pounce to closed off and withdrawn within just a moment.

Laughter and gaming sounds trickle back into existence as Goro becomes aware that they’re standing in the middle of an arcade, not in a private room, shielded from the world’s judgmental eyes.

“I had a toy gun like this when I was young, you know. Funnily enough, I even had two because it’d been my birthday. A friend of mine had the same idea as my mother, and both were mortified at accidentally gifting me the same thing.”

Kurusu laughs, a little broken and less perfect. It brushes away the last bits of heat clinging to Goro, makes place for something more somber and... dangerous as he listens to words bordering on nostalgia.

“But I told them I could just use both, which I ended up doing all the time. I really loved it, running around and playing hero… I guess they were pretty relived I wasn’t upset about it.”

Goro has never equated Kurusu to something as close as a _hero,_ not even if he's a detective, regularly talking about justice like he was the one to have written the original definition others were trampling on now with malicious words written over the internet. 

“You wanted to be a hero?” Goro finds himself asking.

Maybe he wanted to be one at some point, too.

He honestly can't really remember, has more or less only one (maybe two?) goals in front of him for the time being. Lofty ideals such as _wanting to be a hero_ never managed to entice him as much as all the other kids in school. 

Kurusu looks at Goro like the question surprised him.

“I’m not totally certain, but thinking back… I think I must have.” Kurusu puts a hand to his chin, tilting his head a little towards the ground. “...the question is rather interesting, though, because there are different types of heroes.”

The detective looks up again, face lax and serious. It almost matches his expression during the shooter game, Goro thinks.

He meets the other’s gaze – their eye contact is different from half a minute ago, too.

More belligerent, piercing to unravel what’s beneath the other’s façade. At the same time, Goro is painfully aware that someone in the background is screaming about the RNG of a supposedly rigged game since ten seconds now.

“One hero would stick to their own vision of justice, even if others deny it. But the other may adjust themselves to what others say to be gratified as a hero. Are you either of those, Akechi-kun?”

Of course Goro could explain it more philosophically, very thoroughly. Reference famous authors he reads the works of in the safety of Leblanc, Morgana asleep or out, give an answer befitting of the intellect Kurusu is clearly searching for right now.

“I do… what I feel is right,” Goro simply answers.

_What I want._

In the end, nothing but the decision between yes or no itself matters the moment you’re in front of it, regardless of everything but your own desires and conscience. 

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Kurusu slowly says.

He looks like he wants to say more, but then reels back into the safety of what Goro recognizes to be his usual detective persona – polite smiles with a bit of cheekiness while maintaining a cheerful look, neatly covering up the fissures that just showed.

Goro hates it.

“Ah, sorry for making this weird." Kurusu pats invisible dust off his cardigan in an attempt to show nonchalance.

"Whenever I talk with you, I just can’t help delving into these abstract topics at times… shall we get going? I really need a shower after this, haha.”

Kurusu talks about fleeting bits of his childhood like he wants to live through them one more time.

Or, perhaps, like he’s fondly looking back on them because he _knows_ he can’t return to them anymore, that whatever path he’s currently walking alone is the one that will lead him to something absolute, irreversible. 

Goro’s suspicion confirms when Kurusu still calls him later on – the detective acts like he doesn’t care at times, and yet he never fails to text him good morning or to send him another picture in the middle of a night of a cat he’d adopt if he were allowed to.

Goro refuses to believe those are forced habits.

During their call, Kurusu dips into the same territory of dissent he always falls into the longer he talks – starting with mindless topics first (never forgetting to thank Goro for his time), then spiraling down to a few sentences that tell more than everything else that dances on Kurusu’s tongue.

He _always_ catches himself in the right moment, though, pretends he didn’t just casually drop leeway for something possibly so much bigger.

Playing it over when Goro tries to talk to him about it, slapping mask onto mask onto another mask on his face and voice to hide whatever he’s afraid of, no matter how hard Goro tries to rip it open.

It's really, really frustrating, and Goro plans on doing something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also keep going over the smut scenes at times and question if I don't have to raise the rating when they come... then again it's not as explicit as my other works, so that means it's mature for me lol.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been kind enough to leave a comment <33
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AHHH REUPLOAD BECAUSE I HATE AO3 AND MY OWN DUMBNESS**
> 
> *ahem*
> 
> I think it would have been better if I added some substantial dialogue during that, but it is what it is. I don't want to edit this chap for five hours until I'm SUPER satisfied because this is still more of a side project and I don't want it to eat up too much of my time haha. Forgive me for that! 
> 
> **A small heads-up:** here's no actual smut in here, but it does get a little steamy towards the end :)

Kurusu is a regular to Leblanc, now.

He comes and goes on seemingly whimsical terms, but Goro knows the detective is here when Goro himself is here, too. They coordinate it, after all – never with direct questions, rather with subtle hints and intentions of who is going to do what and when.

It’s ridiculous.

Goro has perfected Kurusu’s coffee.

Goro didn’t make him pancakes once.

And despite the absurdity of everything – that the Phantom Thieves fame are on such a rise that Goro is overly suspicious about it, how they gained yet _another_ member for the Phantom Thieves in the form of Haru after Ryuji and Morgana had a fall-out (something he probably could have prevented if he hadn’t been quite so busy with Kurusu), how Kurusu is a detective that receives open hate and is a person that craves and repels attention and affection and smiles so prettily and is a detective that’s going to clash with the Phantom Thieves’ ideals and-

Goro doesn’t love Kurusu, but he’s pretty sure he’s in the _process_ of falling in love with him.

It's _pathetic,_ really. 

Goro _knows_ he hasn’t come close to _what_ Kurusu really is.

Kurusu keeps on slipping between his fingers every time Goro thinks he’s got him. Sometimes he’s too fast, too adaptive for Goro in a way no one has ever been before, and sometimes Kurusu is simply too cold, water turning into deadly shards of ice that would freeze Goro’s blood if he were to willingly prick himself on them.

Goro just knows that Kurusu is carrying too much at once. A fear developed at an early age involving ray guns and his mother began gnawing at his insides until Kurusu felt so hollow he needed to cover it up with any means necessary, not bothering to see if it would hold.

If it was brittle, he’ll just slap something else onto it, pressing everything harder into his body and soul until it hurts and doesn’t.

Anything to not let others see how empty he actually is.

And even in those countless masks Kurusu continues to use whenever they’re out, whenever they’re exchanging soft words Goro’s ears aren’t used to over steaming cups of coffee or heated arguments that nearly makes them spill their drinks onto the table in Jazz Jin, only for both to laugh at the surreal situation – there’s a truth to them, no matter how fake Kurusu tries to make them seem.

There are just… too many puzzle pieces for Goro to try and put together as of now. Goro loves secrets, and Kurusu feels like one that constantly rearranges itself to never give him an opportunity in the first place.

Goro can come close, but not _too_ close. He can ask and comment, but Kurusu will never breach certain topics or go too deep into one that might reveal how brittle the construction around it is.

It’s difficult working around that when Goro is used to just doing what he wants – an approach which only works to a certain degree with Kurusu before the other freezes up and slams all doors shut. 

Sometimes it makes Goro question if he likes Kurusu simply because he hasn’t figured him out yet. It’s the kind of thrill Goro always wanted in his life early on – a bigger puzzle, a challenge that’d keep him on his toes and make him feel accomplished at putting the even the smallest pieces into place.

But there'd always be a reminder why Goro’s having this entire feelings debate inside of his head in the first place.

Because there are moments that cannot be explained by logical reasoning or an analysis of his own character.

In these moments, Goro just feels… sad and warm and comfortable, having no explanation why he wants to reach out to Kurusu and pull him into a light hug without the other flinching back.

Like now, Kurusu’s mellow _welcome home_ mumbled into the familiar and comforting atmosphere in Leblanc the moment Goro steps inside, how Kurusu sits on his favorite place to left, sipping his usual coffee Sojiro seemed to have made for him this time.

There is no real explanation how at easeGoro feels at seeing someone that's supposed to be his nemesis perched over his coffee in the same, stupid cardigan like always, like he belongs here in a small café and not stuffed into an immaculate suit behind the camera.

How he doesn’t tense when Goro brushes close past him, even though there’s enough space for Goro to go by completely unhindered.

And maybe Sojiro knows something is going on between them, because he recommends they should visit the bathhouse – and worn, tired Kurusu, possibly looking even worse than a month before during Medjed (Goro tries not to feel guilty, to feel _bad_ for putting the detective through such a shitstorm he doesn’t deserve no matter how plastered his media personality is, but he _does_ ), visibly brightens at the offer.

Not in the way some would think – no, Kurusu’s way of brightening consists of eyes losing their usual sharpness, tension leaving the practiced corners of Kurusu’s mouth until they’re able to melt into something more unguarded.

Goro hates how _soft_ he’s growing at the sight of Kurusu being happy over something as simple as taking a bath (a part of him hurts, too), and is weak for it regardless.

* * *

They pointedly don’t look at each other while they undress. Goro thinks that a few months ago, this would have most likely ended differently, especially considering the bathhouse is completely empty for once.

There’s nothing stopping Goro from taking in the parts the water leave exposed, though. Kurusu is, as Goro suspected from his comments and implications about not eating properly, on the slimmer side but with a surprising amount of firm muscle that gives him the look of an athlete.

Goro wonders what kinds of sports he does to maintain that figure (didn't the detective talk about cycling?), and at the same time wonders why the heat engulfing him is stemming solely from the bathhouse, not from their state of undress.

Goro isn’t the type of person to be awake at three AM and have a mental breakdown over _what this feeling inside his chest is,_ but it doesn’t mean that Goro is entirely comfortable how drastically his cognition of Kurusu changed. 

God, Ann would surely call him _soft._

He’s feeling a little bit vulnerable, too, now that he thinks about it. A thought that unsettles Goro because he can’t really recall a time where he wasn’t completely _sure_ of what he wants.

Or rather, how to go about it. 

Goro wants Kurusu, that he’s pretty sure of, but it’s so much more complicated than that when they’re standing on two opposite sides of a bridge that seems less and less conquerable by the second because Kurusu is sending so many fucking mixed signals that Goro has entertained the thought of just whisking the other away from the world for a few days to knock some sense into him more than once.

It feels like Kurusu is holding two signs up at the same time – one that’s saying _fuck off,_ the other spelling _please come closer._

And it wouldn’t be Kurusu if he didn't use this already strange atmosphere to just continue fucking over Goro’s life by opening up.

Not talking, not speaking, not articulating careful words Kurusu lays out in his head and twisting them to unrecognizable lengths beforehand.

It spills like poison out of him, like it’s been something he’d wanted to get out for a while.

As if the water gradually nips both of their resistance away, making Kurusu more lax and vulnerable than Goro can ever recall him seeing - the detective tells him about his mother, how much he felt like a burden to her because she kept sending him to a bathhouse whenever she had to work.

The hate for his father that comes after is like a whiplash, but at the same time not unexpected – the poison manifests into something sharper and tangible with how hard Kurusu must be clenching his hands underneath the water, jaw working over each word like the muttered insults escaping his lips don’t even come close to matching the abhorrence Kurusu describes.

For how strongly his body and mouth reacts, Kurusu’s eyes are practically dead, framed by wet curls, like there’s _nothing_ inside of him as he continues talking about how he’d love to have gotten revenge on his father, that he’s actually still working towards it by becoming more and more familiar with the justice system.

As if vengeance is all that Kurusu makes up, and when he's weak enough to talk about it, pushing it out of his heart for others to see, there’s merely a gaping emptiness that isn’t pretty to look at.

And finally, something bigger falls into place.

Goro wants to kiss Kurusu’s hands and tell him he’s still beautiful and _more_ than what he's reducing himself to.

He doesn't- not yet, the information and realization too raw for him to act on it. 

Kurusu reels the poison that’s lingering in the water back inside by the time it gets too hot for the both of them.

Realizing what he just opened himself up to, Kurusu settles his face back to something more composed – not as perfect as before (even Kurusu would know how utterly unconvincing that’d be), but still horribly _alright_ as he sheepishly apologizes to Goro for bringing up such a heavy topic.

Goro remains silent, which Kurusu seems to be taking for some sort of silent consent.

He’s really just trying to process everything. Putting it in relation to what he already knows about Kurusu since he doesn't want to fuck this up.

When they leave the water, grabbing their respective towels to protect their modesty, Kurusu must have stayed longer inside the bath than he is used to (and didn’t say anything due to their ubiquitous competitiveness) because he stumbles once they make it to the changing area.

Goro catches him by his elbow.

Kurusu’s eyes are huge as he looks from that small, physical contact to Goro’s eyes, as if he didn’t expect someone to come to his aid and doesn’t know how to handle it. 

Doesn't know whether to lash out or recoil, his usual sharp mind fogged by the remnants of the bath and whatever made Kurusu reel in his thorns for a short duration.

And Goro really has enough of this silent self-deprecation and denial Kurusu puts himself through, feels some cords in him snap that causes his body to act faster than his mind despite his previous attempts to wait. 

He crowds Kurusu against the high table in the middle, caging him in with his arms as he leans close.

Kisses the protest and questions about to escape Kurusu’s throat shut.

For a split second, Goro fears he miscalculated, that he somehow picked up all the wrong signals for whatever reason because Kurusu hesitates, is frozen against him as Goro brushes their lips together.

But then Kurusu crumbles so prettily – sags against Goro so that he has to place one hand at the waist he’s wanted to hold for so long, and two arm wind around Goro’s neck, pulling him closer to slot their fronts together, and something untangles again. 

It’s addictive – not because of the slow, heady pleasure that starts to soak each and every fiber of Goro’s entire being, but rather because how easily Kurusu falls against him, letting Goro work a leg between his, allowing Goro to dip his head back so he can work his mouth against a vulnerable throat, lapping at the offered skin like it’s something to savor.

Goro feels like he’s dying a little each time Kurusu softly yanks at his hear, moaning feverishly into his ear for each mark Goro leaves on previously immaculate skin.

Perhaps Goro should be a bit frightened how much he already wants to do to Kurusu’s neck and throat alone, intending to leave something Kurusu will remember and _feel_ whenever fabric would shift over the star constellation he’s planning to draw.

A physical reminder that even in Kurusu's broken state, Goro wants him. 

Kurusu grips harder at his shoulder, at his hair when Goro seems to have found a particularly sensitive spot just above his collarbone.

Goro kisses it softly despite his toxic need to ravage it. The action earns him a soft moan accompanied by a shudder, and Goro lifts his head to put their foreheads together.

Kurusu’s eyes are muddled and dark, shining with want and something darker that Goro can’t find a name for with the heat consuming the air around them. 

“Whatever shit you’re currently going through,” Goro mumbles, brushing his finger against Kurusu’s cheek, feeling the warmness radiate from it, “You don’t have to go through it alone. Stop pushing me away.”

Kurusu looks like he’s really considering everything these sentences imply for a split second, his hand that’s entangled in Goro’s wet, long strands relaxing momentarily.

The next emotions wipe through Kurusu’s stormy eyes like a hurricane of different components – mortification, fear, adoration, hate, so many contradicting feelings, so _much_ that Goro begins to understand why Kurusu feels like nothing without them.

Goro is too caught up in the moment to react to Kurusu roughly yanking at his hair, forcing his head to the side. A guttural groan escapes Goro’s throat at the sharp spike of pleasure drizzling down his entire body, further heightened by the feeling of Kurusu’s mouth on his neck, another hand that previously rested on his shoulder slithering to his throat, implications clear.

“Don’t involve yourself with this just because you _want to_ ,” Kurusu hisses into his skin before he roughly, harshly bites down on it.

The pain surges through Goro like hot iron, making him hiss. Goro wants to go for retaliation, draw blood, too, show the other he’s doing it for _more_ than what he was just accused of _,_ but Kurusu has already pushed him back with a force he didn’t expect.

His skin feels incredibly cold even though Goro’s still hot and flushed from both the temperature and the sensation of Kurusu’s body against his. His neck throbs and pulsates in a constant reminder of that, and his arms twitch with the need to yank Kurusu back towards him, tightening his embrace so the other couldn’t escape.

“I believe we should get dressed,” Kurusu says, not sparing him a glance as he walks towards where he put his clothes.

Bruises clear on his neck, more and rawer than that day in the café. 

Goro swallows what he wants to say because- he can't get it out.

It’s a new sensation. Tongue twisting, vocal chords refusing to cooperate with him unlike all the other times when it falls so easily into Goro's lap.

He stays silent as they dress together, stays silent once they’re outside.

Kurusu goes on his tiptoes to peck his cheek, telling him he had a wonderful evening, but he’ll be busy for a while so he won’t be able to meet up again and it’s really just the best to forget this entire evening happened in the first place. 

As if Goro could just blend out the imprint of Kurusu’s teeth on his own neck.

It almost feels like a betrayal.

* * *

Kurusu doesn’t call him like all the other nights.

But Goro knows Kurusu’s thumb lies on the call button anyway, because his own does, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*fans myself*_ hoo boi :D
> 
> I mean, they got somewhere, right?? Super excited to post the last three chapters. And yes, I 'added' another one because I realized one chapter really was too big xD
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could have probably been a bit better, but one delivery for chapter 7~
> 
> **A short warning: There's more or less explicit sex in the second half of this chapter, so please keep that in mind!**

Kurusu tells the public it was a different person that killed Haru’s father.

  
Kurusu attends their school for the festival.

Kurusu blackmails the Phantom Thieves.

  
Kurusu responds with a _You’re back awfully late_ to Goro’s _Babe, I’m home_.

Kurusu looks like both a gentleman and a thief in the Metaverse with his cravat and red and black suit, ready for the show.

Kurusu has a crimson mask instead of a white one.

Kurusu invites him for billiards, and Goro accepts.

  
It's nothing like their first game. Perhaps it's the clothing – heading into November, Kurusu is back to wearing his detective attire, looking strangely out of place as he moves around the pool table.

It reminds Goro that it’s what he's always been - a detective, working for the law, most likely (definitely) planning on betraying them, not someone Goro should try to understand, least of all want.

(He still does.)

Kurusu's also playing with his left hand.

It's an observation that would have filled him with accomplishment any other day. Kurusu is making true of his promise and takes him serious, and yet Goro can’t help but picture how that very hand also holds a gun and a sword in another reality, proposing a different kind of challenge. 

This entire situation feels surreal, like Goro's merely spectating their match from the outside through a wall of glass that's as translucent as it is restricting.

Even when Kurusu bends downward, lining up his next shot in visible concentration, all Goro can think about how much Kurusu is projecting into this game.

Like it's the last one they're going to play. 

Kurusu's lowering his body this much because he prefers to be eye to eye with everything he’s going to destroy – hands, weapon and target fully in focus, gaze and face unwavering, never faltering.

Perfect control.

"If you feel like everything is getting out of hand," Kurusu says in his normal voice and normal expression, watching as Goro mechanically positions his cue stick for the next shot, "do you still continue? Even if you don’t know what's going to happen?"

Goro remembers watching Haru's father die on life television.

The bitter taste which flooded his senses, a distant sense of guilt and doubt settling over him like a dark veil. Making him question everything because deep down he _knew_ there were going to be consequences, their justice more malleable than one would think, especially because Goro kind of... has just been in for the ride for the most part to see where the concept of Phantom Thieves would take him. 

Goro takes a moment to take the current situation in, how heavy Kurusu's gaze is from across the pool table. 

Perhaps the fire already burned the nerves in Goro's fingers and throat away, killing the sensations he’d usually feel.

“I wouldn’t know how to stop,“ Goro says.

He's in too deep, doesn’t regret the changes of hearts he caused with everyone else, the secrets he exposed for the world to feast their eyes on that would have never made it to the surface without their influence. 

Goro can’t-

Kurusu nods at him, like he understands. 

“Sae’s palace is like that, don’t you think? One never knows what to expect in it, what trick she's going to pull next. Let’s not forget the cheats she keeps hidden.” His fingers curl a strand of hair. “But you can’t stop, can’t help but go forward because it’s the only way you know how to beat her palace. Play her games, walk right into potential traps.”

Maybe Kurusu isn’t talking about the casino and their round of billiards and their relationship that hangs like an unspoken curse and prayer between them, too big to ignore, too elusive to grab.

Or maybe he is.

Goro wins the match, but feels like he loses something anyway.

Kurusu's expression remains unreadable, the line of his mouth as tight as his whole body.

He doesn’t look as stressed as during Okumura's scandal, hate piling against him day by day before the murder happened, but there’s a different kind of exhaustion latching onto him that makes his steps and presence heavier, voice dropping from its usual tenor.

His words cut deeper, too.

This is another Kurusu Goro doesn’t understand but wants to – more desperately so than the other’s.

It’s cold outside, breath curling in shy swirls whenever Goro exhales.

"You could join me, you know?" Kurusu calmly suggests like he’s asking for today’s date.

Laughs a little, as if he just realized the absurdity of the statement after articulating it, but looking back at Goro like he really wants him to consider.

Only to shut him down, of course, because Kurusu already made it clear he doesn’t want Goro to meddle.

And yet the idiot _still_ fucking asks him.

“I think that in different circumstances, our ideals would have aligned… wonderfully. We make quite a good team, after all.”

An image of Arsene flashes in front of his eyes.

"You're really strong," Goro remark. _Just like me._

It's not shameful to admit that alongside with him, Kurusu is the best fighter - not only because he immediately _clicked_ with Goro, their combat style having so much more synergy than Goro even has with his teammates, but also because he’s just… unfazed by everything.

Including Goro's outfit in the Metaverse.

And fuck, Goro has _never_ been self-conscious about his appearance in any way. Not in school with his messy hair and leather jacket instead of his blazer, not in the Metaverse with its darker colors and twisted design, matching his main persona. 

But when they'd first gone to Sae's palace with Kurusu, there was a brief spike of fear inside of Goro, one that hadn't been present with any other members joining before. 

Unlike all the other questions or shocked looks he got, Kurusu merely asked him with a practiced smirk what all those _belts_ were for, and that day had almost been _good,_ felt a little more like their usual encounters before something went wrong. 

And- oh, fighting side by side with Kurusu is nothing but a thrill.

He supports a rampaging Goro from the backlines with a mixture of spells and bullets, switches in without hesitation when the recoil damage proves too much for Goro for the time being, not blinking at the mess he has to clean up.

Goro would even call him _eager,_ like the glow of battle and the sight of blood is what makes Kurusu's eyes shine.

It's a sight that never manages to cruelly twist his heart in the most delicious ways. 

Goro would have probably said yes in an alternative universe.

“I can’t,” is all he says, and Kurusu’s expression remains unchanged, not even a twitch of his finger giving away what he might be thinking.

“So you would have wanted to?”

"That's not what I said."

"Exactly," Kurusu sighs. "That's not what you said."

And Goro can't fucking _move,_ feels like his limbs are completely frozen by the time the nightlife of Kichijoji swallows Kurusu's retreating back up. 

* * *

> **Kurusu:** Sorry if this is really sudden, but- do you have time right now?
> 
> **Kurusu:** I want to talk to you about something.
> 
> **Goro:** about what.
> 
> **Kurusu:** Can we meet up in Mementos? I’d like to talk to you somewhere more private.

“He wants the two of you to go to Mementos alone…?” Morgana asks from his bag. 

It’s raining, and Goro stands under the canopy of a shop in the middle of Shibuya central street. He purchased the last weapon and armor upgrades available, something he'd distribute the next time everyone is in the Metaverse.

Sae’s palace deadline is right around the corner - the sting of cold air around him is a constant reminder of how fast the past months had advanced.

And how slow, too.

“I still don't trust him,” Morgana says, crossing his imaginary arms. "If we wouldn't know of his plan, even Lady Ann would be heads over heels for him."

The temptation of telling Morgana she still _is_ isn't as great as usual. 

“I’m the only one who can fight him,” Goro remarks instead, staring at Kurusu's messages. He'll need to type an answer soon. “I’ll be fine.”

Morgana doesn’t comment how Goro skipped over several stages of how a meeting should ideally go. 

“Battle wise, maybe. But you’re definitely not alright with whatever psychological games you got going on with Kurusu. I'm still learning about human emotions, but I'm definitely not blind, Goro.”

He clenches his phone a bit tighter. Only when he feels Morgana’s cheek and whiskers tentatively rubbing against his own does he unclench it again, sighing.

Of course Morgana caught on – the cat is damn perspective and talks too much about mindless things, but keeps the important ones to himself.

A bit like Kurusu, actually.

Goro has always liked to compare him to a cat.

Would he purr like Morgana does right now, if Goro were to scratch under his chin?

He types out a response with his other hand.

> **Goro:** I’m coming.

“I’ll be waiting outside the train station,” Morgana murmurs to him, retracting back into his bag, and Goro wants to hate him for knowing when Goro needs small amounts of reassurance and when space.

As if heaven wills it, too, the rain has reduced to a slight drizzle by the time Goro puts his phone away.

“Do what you think is best," Morgana mumbles to him. "I trust your judgment.”

* * *

Goro thinks he should be more surprised when Kurusu pulls his gun out, aiming at him. 

He stays motionless, taking in the sight of _Joker_ blending in so well within the garbled mess that are the walls of Mementos, color scheme pulsating, dark intention lingering, obvious and yet subtle at the same time.

Perhaps a feeling of foreboding, something that’s always been there from the start – who knew the game expanded beyond one's imagination?

 _You always knew_ , a voice tells him. Maybe it’s Loki, blessing him with non-sarcastic words for once. _And you know even more than you think you do._

"What do you want, Kurusu?" Goro asks harshly with no little amount of irritation. 

“Remember what I told you?” Kurusu recites like it’s practiced, still not moving from his spot, striking the picture of confident calmness.

Goro rewinds notable moments of the past months until it settles within him like a feather coming to rest on the ground.

Goro works his jaw. “You want to fight.”

Kurusu nods, stance unwavering.

He’s always looked more comfortable when wielding a gun, Goro thinks. He uses a simple, one-handed sword as his main weapon which he unsurprisingly excels with, but the sleek, black and red metal of the long revolver he has always fits more into his image, no matter how contradictory his rather fancy clothing seems.

“Your insight. Your strength, your _nonchalance…_ all this pretty much _urged_ me to fight you,” Kurusu almost spits, gaze hard, line of his mouth serious. “Without holding anything back. Without anything to lose.”

Kurusu makes a grimace, exhaling forcefully before he trains his dissecting gaze on Goro again who raises his chin in return, daringly meeting him with a similar expression. 

Goro feels a different kind of heat surfacing within him.

There’s the need to fight– they work great as a team, but there lies a cruel poetry in the question as to how far they’d go to destroy each-other and test their limits. 

It simmers underneath his skin like a starting fever, merging into a serpent that curls along his neck, hissing into his ear.

There’s anger, too. Frustration at everything Kurusu does – that the detective wants to settle everything that transpired until now with a battle, claiming to _go all out_ when they both know they can’t do that, and yet he insists, doesn’t bend underneath Goro’s eyes either, refuses to entertain any other option than the brutal clash of fists and steel and magic.

Like this would fucking solve this mess. 

So Goro nods, lets the claws of his left gauntlet clack against each-other as he pulls out his sword with his other hand, recalling Loki and the other personas he has in his arsenal.

* * *

It’s not a pretty fight.

Goro doesn’t hold back, but the few opportunities he has to slice Kurusu’s throat with red fangs of his saber or completely sever his head go unused, just how Kurusu doesn't press the trigger when the barrel of the gun is pressed against his forehead, how he refuses to pierce Goro's heart completely with a thrust of his sword. 

Kurusu moves like Goro expected him to – elegant, fast and calculated, opposing Goro’s brutal and most often than not spontaneous decisions at the blink of an eye, and Kurusu also doesn’t, uses his gun far less than Goro anticipated, going for close combat most of the time that’s proven to be Akira’s weakness, but always manages to catch him off-guard. 

Like two completely separate beings, Loki and Arsene fight an entirely different fight above them. Their raw strength and spells more often than not forces the persona-users to block or dodge completely to not get caught up in the crossfire. 

Goro’s blood is dripping from too many wounds to count, but it's replaced by pure adrenaline in his system and the need to _win_ in order to knock some sense into Kurusu, to stop this desperate clash of feelings both are unable to speak out aloud for different reason, therefor having to resort to this brutality.

Both of them have obtained a generous amount of injuries, effects of different spells littering their clothes and skin, and his whole body fucking _hurts_ already and he knows he can’t keep this up for much longer, but at the same time something edges him to move faster and wilder with each of his strikes, pushing him beyond his limits like only Kurusu has ever managed to do. 

Goro doesn't even really know what exactly they're fighting for, but the clash of their weapons feels like cries and laughter at the same time, spells exploding all around them.

Kurusu is a force Goro willingly drowns in, and he loses himself in the intensity and _familiarity_ of this battle that is unlike anything else he's experienced before, the one half inside of him that _thrives_ in the sparks of blood that fly and the laughter they exchange submerging everything else. 

It ends with Goro pinning Kurusu to the ground, both of their masks gone.

Both of Goro's claws dig into pale wrists once covered by the sleeve of an elegant suit, trapped on each side of Kurusu’s head.

The detective's sword is knocked away, his gun destroyed under a lucky and strong grip of Goro's hand, and they stare at each-other for an undefinable amount of time, both of their chests heaving and gasping for breath.

The winner is clear.

Heat catches up to Goro now that the rush of battle begins to dissipate, making him hyperaware of every sensation against his skin.

Goro's arms and legs feel heavy and light at the same time, exhaustion tugging at him, and yet something compels him to keep Kurusu pinned underneath him to the ground, taking in how _raw_ he looks with the simmering heat inside gray eyes, how much of the _detective_ had been lost throughout this fight, chipped away with each hit Goro managed to land.

They really are made for each other, Goro thinks as both of their faces meet halfway.

Like their fight, there’s nothing pretty about their kiss. It's all teeth and bite, no love, no tenderness, perhaps not even lust – it’s angry and ugly, the way they both claw the remaining clothes off of each-other afterwards. 

Goro doesn’t have much control over his body as he sinks his teeth into Kurusu’s flesh – everywhere he can reach, on his neck, on his chest, on the inside of his thighs, drawing blood on purpose the moment Kurusu snarls at him to fucking hurry up.

“Don’t drag this out,” Kurusu feverishly hisses, letting out a broken moan right after as Goro harshly claws at a sensitive nipple, and yet he is the one to drag Goro by his hair up again, smashing their mouths together in a useless dance of tongues that does the opposite of what Kurusu just commanded.

They kiss when Goro roughly shoves his fingers into Kurusu’s hole, and they kiss when Goro enters him only a few seconds later, both craving different sorts of pain.

Goro hisses- the walls clenching around him are hot and tight to the point where it almost burns, and yet he can't stop. Not if Kurusu seems to be getting more and more aggressive with each thrust, pressing their bodies closer each time Goro rams into him, and Goro doesn’t fucking know what he’s doing but seeing Kurusu open, angry and snarling and hissing like a cornered animal and yet _willing_ in some abstract way is something he’s never witnessed with Kurusu before, and he needs more, needs to feel Kurusu’s nails dragging over every inch of his back so that Goro feels something other than wrong desire to ground him in this delirious, twisted warmth that's reducing him to his base instincts.

Kurusu doesn’t scream his name, but along with broken moans, poison drips in form of insults and heated words from him anyway, lands on Goro’s skin where it burns through the layers like acid.

“I fucking-- _hate_ you,” Kurusu groans hoarsely, ends up in a near scream as Goro bends him in half as a response, driving his length in and out at a merciless pace. “Acting like - _ahh,_ acting like nothing-- fazes you, like no-nothing can drag you down from your fucking confident throne, not even _I_ -”

"Shut up," Goro growls, rails Kurusu even harder into the ground, but Kurusu just chokes out a broken laugh, digs his fingers brutally into wounds he caused himself.

Goro doesn’t feel anything of it, all of the sensations incoming reduced to the raw, open heat clinging to him and Kurusu’s almost maniac expression he wants to tear out with his bare fingers.

"That's not- true," he growls back, "and you know it."

“You stroll through the w-world without- a _care_ and everybody falls in front of your-- _nghh_ \- feet without you doing anything.” Kurusu yanks Goro’s head back down until both of their snarls are in front of each-other. “D-do you know how irritating that is? That filth like you is able to--”

Goro shuts him up by devouring his mouth again, gripping his throat with his claws. Kurusu tightens around him, and it feels like the words Kurusu wants to say spill into Goro anyway.

It's a parody of love that draws their bodies against each-other, eliciting sounds only for dead walls to hear. Goro has succeeded in pulling away one of the most persistent layers that make up Kurusu, but now finds himself stuck as the other continues to remain so fucking stubborn, curling into a pathetic mess outside of his reach, away from Goro’s bleeding hands.

They find release nearly simultaneously - two loud groans resonate as Goro empties himself inside of Kurusu, seeing bits of milky white splatters across Kurusu's naked and bruised chest in turn.

Goro releases the other's throat, hopes the angry, red marks of his gauntlets remain outside the Metaverse.

No words are spoken as they detangle, dressing themselves by willing their clothes back on again, going back to the surface.

* * *

"Kurusu," Goro says before said male can escape _again_.

He's not going to just let what just transpired _go_ unlike all the other times, the remains of heat prickling his skin, forcing him to act. 

Goro manages to grab Kurusu’s wrist since he clearly intends on ignoring him, and Goro tightens his grip, realizes they feel just as fragile without Goro's claws. 

_D_ _on’t fucking touch me,_ he sees bursting forth from Kurusu's ablaze eyes, and Goro wishes he'd just utter these words.

“Akechi.”

“Stop,” Goro interrupts him, walks closer so Kurusu can take in every inch of his snarl. “Stop being so goddamn difficult. We can work through this together. What are you so afraid of?”

Goro tightens his grip on Kurusu’s wrist when the other wants to shove him away – the same skin Goro had teased about half a year ago with a totally different kind of intent, not knowing it'd lead to this – to pull Kurusu towards him, but the detective is quick to react, yanks himself out of Goro's grasp with a strength he didn't expect, but Goro tries to hold _on-_

A glove flutters to the floor.

They stare each-other for a while, street empty despite how many people walk around them.

Goro bends down to pick up the glove and give it to the other, but Kurusu has already turned away, out of his reach, devoured by darkness.

Days later and trapped within cold walls, Goro dies with a kiss to his lips and a glove in his pocket. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it was a bit predictable haha, but I'd love to hear your thoughts nonetheless <3!
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm still practicing aggressive/emotional dialogue and I'll probably never get the hang of it so I have no idea if everything is good given their personalities, but I guess it's all in or nothing!
> 
> Also, whenever I write fight scenes I have no idea if what I write down feels overexaggerated or actually real to some extend. I hope they're at least flashy and enjoyable to read through, at least.

Kurusu is a storm.

Building slowly, wild and ferocious, imposing and all-consuming towards the end.

Almost managed to be inconspicuous, reminiscent of how he worms his way under your skin with sad and soft smiles, but then charging at you with a force that throws you off your feet – a climax befitting of their last weeks.

Black corrupted his outfit and white took over his mask, widened it, black blood carving a crying smiley into the expanded surface, a literal demon bursting forth from Arsene’s skin to loom over the engine room like it's guarding hell’s door the moment Kurusu tore his second mask off.

Unleashing a different kind of oppressing chaos that's been forcing the Phantom Thieves to fully concentrate on defense for a while now. 

The frustrating part is that Goro _knew_ this was going to happen all along.

It'd always been somewhere in the back of his mind whenever he saw the hate dripping from Kurusu in rivulets on several occasions. But it was pushed back, ignored, _feared_ because the scenario Kurusu forcefully catapulted them all into is the one Goro had been afraid of the most - a clear sign their ways were truly supposed to split. 

“Panther,” Goro suddenly yells, “Makarakarn! Everybody else, utility spells!”

They're done just in time, too.

The onslaught of fire enhanced bullets hailing their way in the next moment barely gets blocked by the magic barrier as they stay huddled close behind it, but the heat still comes through, singing some of their clothing with unmistakable intent. 

“Hide behind your spells all you want!” Kurusu cackles loudly, already reloading for the next round. His midnight cloak (adorned with ridicioulus, golden epaulettes) flutters like restless shadows moving around him as he easily dodges an attempted Ziodyne from Ryuji.

Goro makes Loki send an Eiagon right after, but the persona that answers to the name Satanael blocks it with the same spell, reversing the effects.

“I _can't_ lose, not again! I'm going to kill everyone in this room twice before I'm even remotely done with you!”

It’s already been frustrating fighting against _Joker_ – his smile when he greeted them in the engine room was plastic enough for even the others to grow uncomfortable, the haughty chuckles bouncing off naked walls not alleviating the fact that Kurusu saw a dead man walking amongst the thieves - the same one he killed a week prior. 

It was a painful victory, reducing Kurusu to a broken person that is made up of vengeance for the injustice that befell him and his mother, his desperation, _fear_ in the open and on display.

The Phantom Thieves attempted to get through him, to appeal to Kurusu through his _feelings_ for Goro-

“ _D_ _arling!_ You’ve wanted to _see_ me, didn't you? Isn't this what you fucking wanted?“

-only for Kurusu to fall into desperation, too afraid of failure and a crumbling future to even attempt to understand them.

And then the times in the arcade made _sense,_ why a gun always looked so natural in Kurusu’s hand, why his right hand occasionally twitched – it’s because Kurusu is wielding _dual guns_ as his main weapons.

Two long, glistening revolvers made out of steel and blood, glinting dangerously in the sparse light, their movements nearly hidden underneath the long coat that is Kurusu's White mask outfit. 

And even if one of the Thieves possesses a gun resistance – it doesn’t matter, not when Kurusu is able to unleash most of his spells through his _bullets,_ too.

“Crow,” Morgana shouts, voice strained as he’s trying to prevent getting crushed under one of Satanael’s large hands, Makoto and Ryuji there to physically aid him with their respective personas. They're trying to distract Satanael with spells, but those are mostly getting wiped out by Megidolaons.

“We will lose this battle if we don’t do something!”

To his right, Haru and Makoto are attempting to pull Kurusu into close combat with Ann backing them up from a safe distance. But Kurusu is too fast for them, his guns deadly at point blank range with unmatched speed, and then there's Satanael's own gun - the fire rate is slow, but one bullet results in devastating blasts of both magic and physical damage, forcing the girls to calculate each and every step they take. 

“I _know,_ ” Goro angrily shouts back, trying to think of a way to turn the tides of this one-sided battle. 

Kurusu is a whirlwind of death, firing either an array of bullets broadly across the whole room, or aiming with deadly precision for one’s head, all while his monster of a persona fends off most physical attacks aimed at Kurusu with his body, countering spells with his own.

 _“Croooow,”_ Kurusu howls in rage, and- shit.

Goro tastes blood in his mouth when Yusuke’s Bufudyne shields him just a second to late, and he curses himself for being distracted by Kurusu’s blazing eyes, even more captivating when they’re shining with a twisted sense of being alive– another bullet has brushed his waist, hurting just as much as the hole in his arm and the burns littering some parts of his skin.

He jumps out of the way the moment Kurusu’s bullets completely destroy the massive tree of ice.

“Why do you run now of all times?“

Goro slides towards Yusuke, casting another Debilitate on Kurusu that barely seems to take any effect, and has Loki drive a Laevateinn into Satanael's hand to finally get Morgana out of his clutch. 

“You never _hide,_ never needed to in your life! You don’t know how it fucking is to grovel on the ground people walk on just for them to look at you!”

A pained cry from Goro’s right - Haru's kludging her stomach, blood dripping from her stomach and mouth, but Morgana is already sending a healing spells the girl’s way, closing the bullet wounds immedaitely and Goro- Goro needs to get _close_ or Kurusu will really lose himself.

Morgana has enough stamina for one or two Samarecarms, but Goro'd prefer it if they'd never have to use the spell in the first place. 

Or at least on _him_ only - Goro is sure he could have prevented all this is he hadn't been so caught up in his own indecisiveness. 

“You can – you can be whoever you want!" Kurusu deliriously continues, completely lost in his own rampage. "You don’t need to hide to be accepted! Fuck, you don't even CARE about your reputation and got everything shoved down your throat anyway! I worked my ass off to get here! And you’re tearing it all away, all my efforts, everything-”

God, Kurusu is _talking_ too much again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Goro howls back, no small amount of anger in his own voice, the edge of his words laced in frustration. “You act like you’re nothing without your revenge. Do you realize how damn stupid that is?”

From afar, Goro can see Kurusu’s face twisting into something distinctively more furious.

He trains one gun on Goro, the other keeping Makoto with curse-laced bullets away.

“You wouldn’t ever understand! You’re just some fucking degenerate living in an attic!”

“Because you never outwardly _told_ me!" Goro shouts back, countering Kurusu's next bullets towards him with a Riot Gun. "I can only read you so much! How would I ever fully understand why you do all this if you refuse to talk to me about it?"

Yes, Kurusu talked about his _past ,_ about the hate for his father - but not about how _deeply_ it went, how much Kurusu hurt, how the abhorrence he wanted to kill became his very reason for living, a perverse life-line for Kurusu to yam his nails in.to.

Kurusu falters for only a second before another veil of darkness claims him again, his own psychotic ability pushing him too far out of Goro’s reach now.

Another round of fire bullets showers them, caught by another Bufudyne of Yusuke. Steam erupts from the heat hitting the coldness and it finally gives Goro an idea to get close.

Get close-

Get _close._

Goro laughs, doesn’t stop when his friends look at him with visible concern at his unorthodox reaction in this situation.

 _Words_ will not work for Kurusu, not now, and at least not in the way Goro needs them to.

He'd been so concerned with what he’s going to say to Kurusu that he didn't think about the more obvious possibilities.

If he wants Kurusu, and he _does-_

(has never wanted something, _someone_ that badly before)

-then why not _go_ for him?

He’s pushed Kurusu up to a certain extend, but never _enough._

And maybe Kurusu will break, and maybe it's not the best approach, but Goro is out of fucking time and options and he _knows_ Kurusu is stronger than this, will recover from having his desperation taken away from him - Goro'll take responsibility. 

“We need to take his vision,” he yells towards the others. “If he can’t see, he’ll have to go for area of effect attacks.”

Those cover more room and create distance, but they're easier to neutralize and evade unlike single-target bullets – these even go through some of their shields, penetrating defense completely.

After a few more hastily spoken commands Kurusu doesn’t seem to hear in his fit of rage, they spread out to carry out their plan.

In-between the short window where Kurusu reloads and Satanael is being kept at bay by four of their personas at once, Yusuke charges the largest Mabufudyne Goro’d ever seen him do, creating a massive _wall_ of ice touching the edges of the engine room.

Simultaneously, Ann responds with an equally large Maragidyne, and Goro feels vague pride at how much they’ve improved over the last months.

The effect is immediate – the whole room is caught in steam due to the clash of the two spells, and there is too much at once that even a mighty push of Satanael's wings doesn't clear everything. 

“Now!”

Goro receives an attack boost from Ryuji and feels a physical and magical barrier surrounding him as he speeds into the mist, directly meeting curse bullets aimlessly shot into his direction head on. 

They tear at his shields, but Goro is relentless, getting closer and closer to the position Kurusu is attacking them from, and undefinable emotion urging his limbs to go beyond what he's used to. 

He just doesn’t anticipate what must be an utterly _massive_ nuclear spell completely tearing Goro’s remaining shields away- _hurting_ him through them, and the bullets are still firing all around him, but he’s already so close, just a few steps-

Kurusu is suddenly directly in front of him.

As clear as the day, face raw and surprised, and then he’s already being tackled to the ground with Goro's claws around his throat.

They glide over the floor for a few meters.

Satanael roars above them. More lights explode, but Goro trusts the other's to take care of it because there's no time for distraction and he just barely manages to wretch one gun out of Kurusu's hands before there’s another in his face.

Goro knows a bullet has grazed his cheek when he throws his head to the side to avoid the line of fire - it’s merely a drop of pain in the ocean of feelings Goro uses to push forward though, clear intent pulsating through him like no other.

He squeezes Kurusu's throat tighter. Winces at the pain shooting up his arm, but manages to pin Kurusu's gun hand to the ground with no little amount of force.

“Kurusu,” Goro hisses, vaguely registering how much energy all his actions in the past ten seconds cost him. “Give up.”

“Fuck you,” Kurusu manages to growl out, trashing even harder in his hold, trying and failing to claw at Goro's eyes with his remaining hand.

“I can't lose- no, nonONO--”

Behind and above and surrounding them, Goro can feel Satanael’s presence – suffocating and strong, a dark knight trying to save his master, but this is another reason why Kurusu will lose – he’s relying only on himself, has never _learned_ how to let others close.

The Phantom Thieves are keeping Satanael busy, giving Goro the much needed time he needs bear Kurusu's last defenses down.

However, Kurusu is still struggling, bucking up beneath him in his desperate state, eyes wild and unfocused, tousled strands peeking from beneath a hood.

Goro is just as relentless, doesn’t weaken his hold despite his increasing exhaustion telling him to just let go, isn't fazed when Kurusu tries yanking the hand on his throat away.

“N-no,-” Kurusu groans, audibly less angry, more broken. “Don’t."

Then, "Please, everything but this-”

Kurusu is-

Kurusu is crying, tears spilling over his eyelashes, running down his cheeks.

He’s crying because he realizes he will lose, but he _can’t_ give up, the sheer notion leaving him so lost that he’s letting Goro see the very proof of his desperation.

 _Fuck,_ the sight makes his heart _hurt._

“Don’t fight this,” Goro murmurs, weakening his hold on the other’s throat a bit. Kurusu has stopped trashing, but everyone else around him is still fighting. “Don't fight _me._ You’ve lost this match, but that doesn’t mean you lost everything else.”

He hears some shouts and cries. It’s somewhere far, far away, and the only thing that counts is Kurusu beneath him, crying like the last time he did had been in his childhood.

A notion that doesn't seem to be too far off.

“A-akechi,” Kurusu hiccups, closing his eyes, averting his gaze. Gritting his teeth. “Don’t look. God, don’t fucking look-”

“I can and I will,” Goro harshly says, driving up his hand so he's grabbing the other's chin instead- anything to keep Kurusu truly here.

Goro hesitates when feathery gray instead of hard gunmetal meets his eyes, a rawness climbing up his throat that makes it hard to speak the next words.

“No. I _want_ to look, Kurusu. I want to see who you are without any of this. You just have to let me in.”

“There’s no one to see,” Kurusu hoarsely whispers, closing his eyes instead.

“This was my reason for living through each day. My goal- my goal was so close, too. Fuck, I planned this my whole _life._ And then you came along with your stupid smirks and bold gestures and _confidence_ that it just offset _everything._ You've taken it all away. There's no reason to prolong this - go ahead and _kill me."_

Kurusu snarls the last words, but his tone is so much weaker compared to when the other had challenged him to darts or billiards or to a fishing contest.

Goro narrows his eyes, dully aware of the painful throbbing all over his body. He can't keep this up much longer, but at least Kurusu has ceased to struggle as much as before, giving him more time before he'll sleep for an entire month to recover from this shit. 

“Do you hear the nonsense you’re saying? Of course you have a reason.”

Kurusu gives a humorless, dry laugh.

"Sure. And what would that be?"

“Me,” Goro says, trying to summon all of his nonchalance.

Before Kurusu can insult him and call him a presumptuous bastard, Goro loosens his grip on Kurusu's gun hand, too.

It stays motionless on the ground aside from twitching once.

“And even if I somehow misinterpreted you telling me about your past and kissing me back, there is more. The joy of eating your favorite dish. Savoring the heat of a blanket in the morning. Fuck, _living_ itself is a privilege we often forget. New opportunities, too." Goro pauses, watches mute tears seep into a white cravat. "Like getting revenge on Shido _without_ killing him.”

"I tailored my whole life towards just that."

"Exactly," Goro says. "Shido is a fucked up bastard, and yet you're _giving_ him so much by doing all of this. He doesn't deserve any of that."

"But I'm _nothing_ withou-"

"How would you know if you never fucking tried?"

Goro doesn’t know when exactly Satanael has flickered away into blue flames, but the room has become eerily silent except for ragged panting and the rush of blood in his ears.

“You’ve only ever seen reality through the truth one person has given you.Unknowing that you always had the chance to be happy and... more."

God, Goro usually leaves the emotional talk to his friends, but- the words kind of spill out of his mouth, much like Kurusu opened up to him in the bathhouse or several other occasions. They have a strong and unrivaled dynamic, now that Goro thinks about it, just like they're more vulnerable around each other, too.

"It's something you'll _always_ have it if you look beyond the small world you've limited yourself to. And deep down, you know that killing your father wouldn't have made you happy or fulfilled or all of this _worth_ it.”

Kurusu is still crying, possibly more than before.

“But it hurts,” Kurusu sobs, ugly and small, so different from his perfect façade. “To see all I ever did was- Fuck, why does it have to hurt so much?”

Goro’s gaze remains hard. "Of course it does. You’ve lived your life as a perception for other's with only your need for revenge to give you some resemblance of individuality. In a sense, I admit that we’ve taken that from you, no matter how much pain you caused with that.”

It _is_ cruel, Goro knows that. On both ends.

He leans down. “But I want to give you something back in return. Something that isn’t as insubstantial as what you tried holding close to your heart.”

Suddenly there are footsteps – sounds that don’t belong to his Phantom Thieves because Goro knows they’ve been keeping their distance. 

Ready to attack or defend, but respecting Goro's earlier wishes. 

“Well, look what we have here," a familiar voice says.

Goro looks up and sees the splitting image of Kurusu walking towards him, dressed in his detective attire. Some shadows are surrounding him, too, prowling and ready to attack.

Goro feels Kurusu tense beneath him to concerning amounts. His eyes are wide open and directed towards his lookalike, morbid surprise all over his face, and Goro needs another second for realization to wash over him like a tidal wave. 

Fate surely is cruel.

But Goro isn't going to let _anyone_ take away what he worked so hard for. 

It's why he doesn’t hesitate when the second Kurusu reaches inside of his pocket.

Goro lifts his gun faster.

Shoots the cognition one, two, three, four times into the head and torso, watches it fall over, dissipating into pool of blood and shadows before it even hits the ground properly. 

_Pathetic._

The remaining shadows pounce, but then there’s Ann flinging a dog away with her whip, Haru who is digging her axe into the arm of another shadow that wanted to reach the immobile pair on the ground, Makoto and Ryuji defending them from the side.

Morgana’s healing finally washes through Goro and reaches Kurusu after some seconds, too.

Their wounds close, their breathing becomes less ragged, and Goro is only now able to see how fucking much he _bled_ onto Kurusu.

He must have gotten hit with a lot more bullets than he thought during his rushed charge - it would explain the light headiness he felt earlier, and he's a bit miffed Morgana didn't heal them (or at least Goro) earlier. 

All sorts of warm, familiar magic flashes around him as the Phantom Thieves form a circle to protect them both. 

Goro allows himself a sweet, short second of sentimentality and pride before he focuses on Kurusu again- whose eyes are still wide, but shining with a different kind of surprise, like he doesn't believe what just happened.

“It would have told you about things that aren't true,” Goro explains, cracking a smirk.

Kurusu opens his mouth, closes it, only to open his mouth again and closing it right after.

Goro laughs.

Fuck, he’s never felt this exhausted in his life. He bends down, pressing their foreheads together as he closes his eyes and hopes Kurusu would finally accept him.

He's really tired of running after the detective - shouldn't it be the other way around, the detective chasing the criminal?

Then again, none of them both are normal. 

“Just let me love you, idiot," he mumbles.

“I-” Kurusu makes a weird noise even Goro can't categorize, and clears his throat.

“Did you just seriously say that _after_ you didn't hesitate shooting my face?"

Goro opens his eyes again, scowling. "That piece of shit didn't resemble you in the slightest.”

"No! That's exactly-" Kurusu splutters again. "Are you even taking this serious?"

"On the contrary, I've never been more serious in my entire life."

Oh, yeah. Words don't really work with Kurusu.

So Goro lifts his head and studies Kurusu's tired, confused, uncertain expression. Thumbs at the other's split lip, lowers his body again, and something flashes through Kurusu's eyes as he slightly tilts his chin up to meet-

“Are you two lovebirds ‘effin _done?_ ”

Goro spends one second to catalogue the indefinable noise Kurusu makes as they pull apart before killing intent hits Goro like a whiplash, flooding his entire being from the inside out.

Red overtakes his vision.

“We were having a fucking _moment,”_ Goro growls in simmering rage, trying to find the preparator between the people who are considerably closer-

“You can do all this _after_ we’ve made it out of this ship!” Ryuji exclaims, wildly waving his arms, unaware of the fact that it makes him even more of a target because Goro could simply grab those limbs and _pull._

Or _slice._

"As lovely as it is to see you make up with the person who killed you, we should really get out!”

The last strand inside of him snaps.

 ** _“I’m going to fucking kill you,”_ **Goro hisses, madness consuming him as he summons his saber again.

He’s about to jump towards Ryuji and introduce him to another world of pain, but then there’s a weird sound echoing through the engine room that makes him halt in his quest to permanently end Ryuji's pitiful life. 

Goro pauses, feels his brain emptying as he recognizes the sound to be _laughter._

Bewildered, Goro looks down, only to see Kurusu’s chest still shaking. 

“You’re- I can’t believe you,” is what the other manages to get out, rubbing at his eyes, then limply letting the hand fall back onto the floor.

“You’re truly beyond my comprehension. After all I’ve done, you still act so nonchalant. Like I didn't kill you before, and didn't just try to kill you all now."

Futaba and Haru are a different story, but that's something they can solve at another point in time.

Kurusu isn't done yet. "And yet you receive me with such…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence this time, probably doesn’t know how to.

Goro smirks, brushing some claws through his hair as he comfortably settles back on Kurusu again. He splays one claw over the expand of Kurusu's chest, feeling the somewhat irregular heartbeat through his gauntlets and layers of clothing. 

“I’ve wanted you the moment I laid my eyes on you, detective. Bold of you to assume I'd let your stubbornness or something as trivial as death stop me. I’ve loved every side you’ve shown until me now - the fake ones, the ones who came closest to the truth." He gives his voice a playful tilt. "Even the one where you murdered me.”

Kurusu’s eyes flash with indignance, and red colors his face- so differently and yet so _alike_ from the Café Kurusu. 

“Did you- seriously just say that?"

"Mhm."

"...You're sick."

“Mhm."

"Possibly sicker than me."

Goro grins, ignoring everyone's groans when he says, "only for you.”

They're going to work this out.

Somehow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok thank fucking god can I NOW scream about Black mask Akira who uses two revolvers as his weapons and is able to charge spells through them as well? (a bit like the reaper actually, but I only noticed AFTER I wrote everything down haha. I always forget the reaper uses revolvers and not a scythe...) Like idk if it's just ME because I thought of this but it's so hot dwniaowmawd thank you.
> 
> Technically Satanael can't do Eiagon, but jesus if he can do Maeigaon then he can do Eiagon as well. I also don't know if fire hitting ice actually creates steam, but if the ice melts and there's water?
> 
> (Also I PROMISE I love Ryuji. I swear I'm not bullying him.)
> 
> Anyway, almost at the last chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me until now!


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah remember when I said 2k each chapter? I always end up adding way too much when the chapters are already done, haha.
> 
> This has probably some mistakes in it since it was a beast to edit, but ahhh... feel free to point those out :)
> 
> I'll leave a longer message at the bottom note, but for now, enjoy reading the final chapter!
> 
> **The last part contains smut!**

The rain drenches people without protection indiscriminately around the Diet Building.

Some of the more considerate Phantom Thief members have umbrellas with them, already hurrying to get them out.

He hands Ann his bag with Morgana in it - a silent request, one she accepts with a secretive smile.

Goro blinks when Haru approaches him with her still folded umbrella. She offers it to him while gesturing towards Kurusu - who’s standing a little apart from the collective group, visibly tense and terribly apprehensive, purposefully averting his eyes.

Goro furrows his eyebrows as rain continues to restlessly prickle onto his clothes, slowly working their way through his leather jacket, and directs his eyes back to Haru.

He always forgets to bring an umbrella with him.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” she curtly says, pressing the umbrella into Goro’s hand. “Besides, Makoto has one, too, and my home isn’t far from where I have to leave the train.”

Haru doesn’t retract her hand just yet, applying more pressure so that Goro has to use some of his own strength. 

Her eyes are sharp, the soft corners she usually possesses gone for something firmer that isn’t lost by the droplets clinging to her face.

Or to his glasses - he'll need to take them off in the next minute if he wants to see something. 

“We’re not done talking about this. Kurusu murdered people - that includes my father, Futaba’s mother and you. His background or reasons are secondary to that. This is not something we can simply sleep over to forgive and forget.”

Haru pulls her arm back towards her. “But right now, he’s confused and lost something very important to him, regardless if that was the right thing to hold onto or not. Before talking to Kurusu about everything that transpired, I want you to be there for him. Just like you were there for each one of us when we didn’t want to admit needing you.”

Goro’s heart swells a little. The fact that Haru is willing to bury her own, personal grudge for the moment speaks for an understanding, a _strength_ he doesn’t see often in people.

He nods, trying to fight off a stupid smile that wouldn’t suit his reputation at all.

“Thanks, Haru.”

Goro doesn’t express his genuine gratitude like this often, so he hopes it conveys at least a small amount of how he feels.

Her eyes lose some harshness after a few, apprehensive seconds.

Haru nods once before walking towards Makoto, who’s already moved her umbrella to shield Haru from being subjected to even more rain.

Everyone waves at him and then turns, leaving Goro with Kurusu alone.

He unfolds the umbrella, hooks his glasses into his top and sighs when he notices it's already sticking onto him like an uncomfortable, second layer.

The approaching December air makes everything around five times worse – he should have gone for a warmer jacket. But Kurusu isn’t wearing late autumn or winter attire either though, and the realization somehow brings a small smile to his face.

“You look like a drenched cat,” Goro says as soon as he’s closed the distance between them.

Kurusu gives him an unimpressed look that is quite ineffective with how his bangs are plastered to his face. His detective attire is awkwardly sticking to him, making him seem even more miserable.

“You’re barely looking any better," Kurusu retorts with thin ice in his words. 

Goro smirks. Lifts his umbrella a little as a silent invitation.

Kurusu visibly fights with him for a few seconds, but then he steps closer, hesitantly tucking himself next to Goro – good. He half expected Kurusu to go through another denial phase, even if it meant being subjected to the rain even longer.

They remain silent as they slowly start walking towards the train station themselves. Kurusu has his arms crossed, fingers digging into his forearms. Partially due to the cold, partially because he doesn’t really know how to express what he wants to say.

They match, Goro thinks, because despite everything he’d thrown at Kurusu ten minutes earlier to get him out of his rampage, he’s in the same situation. It’s quite surreal – they’d been at each other’s throat in one moment, only to stay huddled beneath an umbrella in the next, words failing for what they want to describe.

But there’s simply so _much_ to address; their entire dynamic put upside down in the span of only a few heartbeats. If they already had troubles defining what exactly they were before the engine room, how would they know now?

The silence follows them into the train, which is mostly empty. They remain standing until the voice of a woman mechanically announces the next line to Kichijoji.

“Kurusu,” Goro says. “It’s your stop.”

The other doesn’t move. Kurusu isn’t quite shivering, but a shudder rakes through his body every ten seconds or so. Goro’d offer his jacket, but he knows it wouldn’t make anything better. He also has the feeling Kurusu would reject the offer, too.

There’s something strong and weak in his gaze at the same time when Kurusu lifts his head a little, watching Goro through a messy array of bangs.

Kurusu bites his lips, uncertainty practically graspable in his eyes.

“Could I- I mean, if it isn’t-”

“Tell me what you want, Kurusu,” Goro says, stern, but not unkind.

He already knows in what direction this is going, never really thought Kurusu would exit here, but he needs to hear it from him in his own words.

(A small part of him still fears rejection, too.)

“…I don’t want to go back to my apartment,” Kurusu admits in a small, slightly unstable voice, like it costs him a great amount of energy and pride to admit it.

His gloveless hands clench into fists. “It reminds me of him.”

Goro doesn’t feel as cold as before.

They’re long past the stop for Kichijoji, the nightlife of Japan rushing past them.

“Does a dusty attic on top of a coffee shop sound better to you?”

It takes Kurusu two more stops to answer.

“It does.”

* * *

Futaba must have texted Sojiro beforehand because the moment Goro fumbles for his keys, the door is already swinging open, hands ruffling his wet hair.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Sojiro murmurs into his ear and slips past in the next second, disappearing before Goro can come up with something smart to retort.

Goro’s ears are warm with fond irritation, but if Kurusu has heard the one-sided exchange, he doesn’t say anything. They go inside, Goro putting the wet umbrella away and locking the door.

It’s strange – similar to their fresh Metaverse experience, the sight of the detective hesitantly going up the stairs to Goro’s attic after a silent head tilt is so different from when Goro’s only ever seen Kurusu at the counter of Leblanc, never leaving his place unless it’s for the door.

Goro quickly follows after, suppressing a small smile when Kurusu tries his best not to be too obvious about how intensely he’s taking everything in the room in – from the dead plant in the corner Goro thought to be plastic at first (and never bothered removing), up to the cluttered worktable where Goro likes to get lost in crafting infiltration tools.

Goro darts past him towards the small wardrobe he bought early on to not leave his clothes inside of chests and boxes only, taking out a change of clothes himself before throwing Kurusu another pile.

“You can change into that. I’ll go downstairs to get some towels,” Goro says.

Using Kurusu’s stunned silence, Goro goes back downstairs into the small bathroom, grabbing two towels out of a cluttered cupboard.

He purposefully lingers a little longer so Kurusu can get changed in peace.

He’s not disappointed when he goes back upstairs. Goro’s clothes are (un)surprisingly a bit too large on Kurusu, the shirt exposing more skin that Goro is used to, sweatpants riding low on his lips, but seeing Kurusu in utterly casual, _his_ clothes makes Goro feel a warmth he could get used to.

Probably because the knowledge that _he_ gets to see this unfamiliar, but welcome sight which is much more substantial than any mark he could have left on Kurusu’s skin.

Goro quickly changes into his own sleepwear, mildly amused with how awkwardly Kurusu stands in the middle of his attic, his detective clothes in a neat pile by the stairs.

Does he still have his one glove?

Goro likes this, though – much better than the Kurusu trying to fill the void in the air by himself. It also shows that Kurusu isn’t comfortable, isn’t used to everything Goro does for him, which in turn makes him all the more determined to make Kurusu _get_ used to it so he doesn’t have an allergic reaction towards domesticity in the future. 

( _This_ is a side only Kurusu gets to see, too.)

Goro decides to take mercy though, and points at the bed while looking at Kurusu.

“Sit.”

Confused leftover rage simmers in Kurusu’s tired eyes, but Goro is quick to soothe it, laughing as he ushers him onto the mattress.

“Stop worrying. I just want to dry the bird nest you call hair.”

“Says the one with noodles draped all over his face,” Kurusu scoffs.

But he complies, doesn’t tell Goro he can do it himself.

Goro steps closer, puts the towel onto Kurusu's head and begins to slowly pat down his hair. 

Kurusu is tense – he can see his fingers digging into his knees, so Goro tries his best to be as careful as he can.

He surprises himself by being gentler than he originally thought himself to be capable of when doing this, and the reason why promptly enters his mind like some faraway serendipity.

“My mother used to do this,” Goro says, unable to resist curling a few strands between his towel-clad fingers.

“I forgot my umbrella pretty often during rainy season. She hissed at me whenever I got back from school because I was drenched from head to toe, but the first thing she’d do was getting a towel and drying my hair so I wouldn’t catch a cold.”

She always chewed him out during that process, though.

Making comments about how he also forgot to slip off his boots and there was now mud everywhere, and how they’d have to dry his entire set of clothes yet again. But her movements in his hair had been gentle despite the harshness in her voice - Goro always gave her a toothy smile afterwards, already knew that actions betray her mouth most often than not. 

“Why?”

Kurusu’s voice makes Goro snap out of his thoughts. He slows down his movements, meeting Kurusu's eyes.

They look at him with a strange fragility – a hint of fondness maybe, too, but Goro isn’t too sure.

He hums. “That’s awfully specific.”

Kurusu’s fingers begin digging into the material of his sweatpants again.

“Akechi-”

“Kurusu,” Goro says at the same time. He stills his movements completely, pulls his hands and the towel away. “Can I call you Akira?”

He probably should have asked that question way earlier. Goro never called Kurusu by his first name, but right now it feels like he’s spoken it hundreds of times already.

Akira cocks his head at him. “Why?”

“That question again. Can I or can I not?”

“...I suppose you can.”

“Wonderful. Feel free to call me Goro in return. And now,” Goro says, throwing the towels into a random corner because he couldn’t really care less, ignoring he still has his own hair to dry, “you’ll be more specific with your _why.”_

He sits down next to Akira, watches a tension ripple through his body like a stone just fell into a still lake. Goro wants to smooth the harsh lines of his back he can even see through his shirt, but he’s already pressing Akira on an entirely different front so he lets his arm stay limp.

“Why are you doing all of this? Letting me into your home, drying my hair. Treating me like nothing happened and we’re two normal people with a normal life.”

His tone is a lot deeper. Goro guesses it’s his natural voice, not the unassuming one uses to lure people towards him.

It suits Akira a lot more.

And why he's doing all of this? A part of Goro himself is still unsure, and maybe he'll just never figure it out, always searching for that intangible answer.

“I’m not treating you like nothing happened. Neither do I pretend you didn't hurt a lot of people for selfish reasons, nor do I pretend you were completely at fault for it.”

“You’re a naïve idiot,” Akira murmurs.

It doesn’t hold any bite – it’s like a statement, a fact Akira’s convinced of. “There’s no guarantee I won’t try again. You should have simply killed me-”

“You’re always going back to the one option you think will save you from all the pain coming your way,” Goro interrupts him heatedly. “You deserve to feel guilty and shitty to an extend, but don’t let it consume you now. Didn’t it hurt even more before? You endured all of Shido’s shit as a child on, right? The humiliation of serving under him when all you wanted to do was put a knife through his eyes. The strain of this ridiculous detective agenda you got going on, having to adorn so many faces to please the mindless crowd.”

He sighs. “You’re so fucking strong, Akira. Don’t reduce yourself to something that you aren’t.”

Akira opens his mouth again – slower than last time, though, as if his _body_ remembers for him that he should protest.

Goro is faster than Akira, putting a hand to his shoulder. Still as wound as a bow.

“I’m really tired,” Goro says.

And he is.

He didn’t notice before, sensations probably numb from the cold and the aftermath of the battle, but now that he’s somewhat warm and dry and has Akira next to him in reachable distance, it sneaks into his limbs again.

He’ll let Akira spill his entire heart out one day, won’t interrupt him, will let him talk until tears adorn his pretty face again and merely pull him close.

But he sees the tiredness in the other’s eyes right now, his need for something firmer.

“We can talk about all the shit adults forced us into another time. But do you want to know what I want to do right in this moment?”

Goro pushes, and for how tense Akira is, he falls over relatively easily.

He hovers over the other, takes in how utterly neutral Akira looks beneath him.

Like he’s calculating everything Goro does for its worth, trying to put it into context that makes sense to him, trying to understand and comprehend.

Goro breathes in. There’s a strange knot inside of him, too, something he hasn’t acknowledged until now.

“I want to make love to you.”

Some seconds pass. Akira even starts to blush, but Goro groans, lets his head drop onto Akira’s chest.

Morbidly chuckles into it. 

“Fuck. That sounded way less stupid in my head.”

"...I can't believe you said that."

"Shut up."

"I won't."

"Akira-!"

It takes a while of burning humiliation, but a tentative hand starts threading through Goro’s still wet strands.

He sighs – Akira is so warm underneath him.

“I don’t think I deserve you,” he hears Akira admit in a quiet tone.

Goro’s heart lurches, and he wants to raise his head and tell Akira _no,_ that’s for _him_ to decide, but Akira presses his head down and so he stays, listens to the heartbeat jumping beneath his ear, only separated through layers of cotton and flesh. 

“But I’ll tell you- I’m horribly selfish. And greedy. I want you to myself despite knowing I shouldn’t.”

Goro smirks into Akira’s chest. “Dunno what you mean. Sounds hot to me.”

He winces when Akira drags him up by his hair, but manages a slight smirk at the indignant look on Akira’s face.

He really wears blushes so prettily, and Goro finally gets to see all this without it feeling _fake_ in any sort of way, without a mask to flicker over Akira's face immediately to cover cracks he thinks vulnerable. 

“I’m going to kill you someday,” Akira threatens with hooded eyes.

Pulls Goro closer despite his words, breath fanning across his lips.

“But first, I’m going to kiss you.”

* * *

There’s no rush this time. Goro thinks he should feel weird, or maybe uncomfortable – he’s not used to slow, tender movements, taking his time to undress his partners and map out their skin as he does with Akira right now, ghosting his lips slowly over each part that shyly exposes itself. 

It’s always been about getting to the point, to quickly chase the height of something carnal that thrives beneath his skin.

Their encounter in Mementos had already been different from that despite following a similar pattern, fueled by something else that wasn’t based on mindless pleasure itself.

“G-Goro-” Akira gasps as he swallows him almost whole, fingers threading through his hair. Goro feels Akira’s toes curling from when they brush against his thigh and hums, encourages the jerk of his hips with one hand.

There’s pleasure unfolding in Goro’s stomach too, but it’s stemming from how Akira throws his head back the moment he swallows, the heated, embarrassed look that enters Akira’s eyes after he meets his gaze again, fully aware of Goro’s eyes following his every movement.

It’s much more mesmerizing and tangible than any sexual encounter Goro had, even before Akira pushes him off with shaking legs, crawling towards him in return.

The puzzle still isn’t solved – possibly has gotten even bigger, now that Goro has another area to explore, but if anything, it just adds into Akira’s appeal.

“You don’t need to,” Goro gently says as he realizes what he other has in mind because he wants this to be about Akira, but Akira flushes, gets a defiant look in his face.

He shakes his head, pushes Goro further back with a confidence that has only begun bleeding through after Akira grew particularly embarrassed about a sound Goro elicited from him when playing with his chest.

And it’s- it’s really nice, Akira insisting on giving back despite Goro’s words, not something Goro is used to very often. Especially from Akira. But the detective already knows him better than most, probably any other person aside from his mother, so Goro leans back and lets contentment fill him at the other's eagerness to please.

The pink on Akira’s cheeks suits the necklace of bruises around his neck well – they’re not as dark as some others Goro already left on him, but rather light and red, matching the color that spreads so easily on Akira’s cheeks now, even going down his neck.

“I want to,” Akira says, almost bashfully before returning Goro’s ministration, taking the tip of Goro’s cock inside his mouth.

And Goro knows sex won’t solve the mess they’re entangled in. It might even be a bad kind of distraction, but Goro’s never really been good with words and he wants Akira to show that despite everything, he’s _still_ willing to touch and love him.

Especially after today.

Well, they're a bit messed up already.

“You’re doing so well, ‘kira,” Goro murmurs, letting out an appreciative groan when Akira takes him deeper in response, mildly flushing at the praise.

He savors it, every drag of Akira’s pulsating walls against his flesh that is just as hot. Wipes glittering tears away when they form at the edge of his eyes with a tenderness foreign even for himself, repeatedly tells Akira how good he’s doing, that he’s never felt better.

Akira doesn’t pull of when Goro’s climax hits, and the sight of him swallowing feels like a warm fire singing the tips of his fingers.

Akira gives him a judging look when Goro pulls out the lube from under the bed, but it gets broken the moment Goro coats his fingers in the substance, carefully rubbing them against Akira’s entrance after he flips their positions.

He plays with the sensitive skin of the lower part of Akira’s waist as he works him open, slowly, carefully, cataloging every reaction Akira makes to recall it all on a later date.

He’d like to kiss him, but then he’d only be able to _feel_ how Akira arches into his touch so responsively, and not see the way Akira’s eyelashes prettily flutter with each breathless gasp.

Goro feels good – not the kind of good that is temporary and bursting, but a sensation that warms his limbs from within, coats his tongue with heaviness and his mind with a pleasant buzz.

It doesn’t change when he enters Akira, possibly even grows because one of Akira's hands shyly brushes against Goro’s, as if asking for permission, still unsure. 

Goro huskily laughs. He nuzzles into Akira’s neck as he intertwines their fingers, savoring the small gasp Akira is unable to hold back as he sheathes himself completely. “Don’t hold back.”

“T-tease,” Akira breathes into his ear, but Goro hears the shaky smile that laces the words.

It’s not an illusion – that he could possibly do anything to Akira right now, and the other will let him. But only because Goro has _earned_ it, has poured more sweat and blood into this relationship than in anyone else’s that it feels like an insult to call Akira a mere confidant.

No, he's so much more than that, will probably grow in an unspecific way forever. 

Goro knows getting Akira this pliant won’t be as easy next time. That it’ll go differently like all their encounters, and this is a rare moment where Akira allows Goro to fully take the reigns.

And Goro holds them carefully, settles for a languid pace where he gets to feel Akira cling to him, body curling in a way that entices Goro to kiss and remember everything he can reach.

Everything to make him feel needed, loved. 

“ _Ngh_ \- G-Goro--”

Akira cums first with a high whimper that Goro will treasure and remember. The scorching around him quickly proves too much, sends the last parts of his resolve over board and he wants to pull out, but Akira is faster, tightening his interlocked legs behind Goro, forcing him to release inside.

“Fuck, Akira,” he growls, to which the other answers with a bruising kiss that will most likely never fail to short circuit some parts of his brain.

He collapses on top of Akira, bathing in the warm, tingling aftermath of his climax.

They wait for their breathing to normalize, for the cotton to start vanishing so they can think clearly again.

“Even if you run away again, I’ll drag you back,” Goro murmurs into a mark he created.

It's a promise, one he knows Akira will understand. 

“I don’t want to,” Akira answers after a while, voice slightly raspy. Uncertain, but in a good kind of way. “Running away, I mean. I’ll- I’ll try. Whatever this is. Only if you’re here, though.”

Goro can’t suppress the smile blooming on his face at hearing those words.

“That’s all I ever wanted."

Wrong. Goro wanted so much _less._

When he met Akira, he didn’t want to avoid half-hearted punches to his face because he’s too lazy to clean them up. Didn’t want to hold Akira in his arms like he’s something precious, didn’t want his heart to pound this loudly when Akira murmurs a promise back into the crook of his neck.

Goro didn’t give him his glove back like he planned to, but he thinks he’ll have many, many opportunities from now on anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And--- it's done? Or maybe not?
> 
> Obviously it's an open/hopeful ending with the potential to get picked up again. If I do, it's going to be Akira POV to balance this 9 chapters of Goro POV out. For now, though, I shall let this AU rest!
> 
> The ending might seem a bit rushed but I really wanted to finally end this and not break out in another 10k. Obviously there are a lot of unresolved issues- but hah, I shall not untangle them here!
> 
> But for everyone who got to this point: Thank you for reading and keeping up with this! I sincerely hoped you enjoyed at least parts of this little project - especially all the loyal commentators who always took their time to always write something for each chapter.
> 
> **You know who you are, thank you so much for your amazing support! You guys keep me motivated aside from my own hunger to feed the Akeshu corner of this fandom <3**
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


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